


Building a Family

by Kizmet



Series: Making a New Life [2]
Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: F/M, Family, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-05 14:07:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 42,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1094810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kizmet/pseuds/Kizmet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vegeta has returned to Capsule Corp, but learning to be part of a family is an entirely new sort of challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Characters and premise belong to Akira Toriyama, I’m just borrowing them for a bit of non-profit fun

 

“Come home,” Bulma had said and in some ways it really was that simple.

Vegeta had come home to Capsule Corp and while the threat of the Androids was gone the Gravity Room was still there. It had been easy to slip back into his old routine of training for thirteen plus hours a day.

Vegeta had turned forty while training in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber, he’d been alive for just over four decades and for the first time in his life there was no one for him to strive to overcome. Frieza was dead, the Androids were no longer a threat, Cell was dead, Kakarrot was dead and by his own choice he wouldn’t be coming back. And still Vegeta trained. In some part it was because it was all he knew. In some part it was because even if he couldn’t prove himself in battle against Kakarrot he could still achieve a level of power beyond what the younger Saiyan had accomplished. But Vegeta also trained because the image of his son’s lifeless body falling at his feet had found a special place among his nightmares.

Vegeta didn’t understand it. He’d barely known the brat for a year. Trunks had been a warrior who’s raw power exceeded Vegeta’s own and yet the fact that he hadn’t been able to prevent Trunks’ death, that he’d failed to protect his son had cut Vegeta more deeply than the destruction of his entire race. Once Vegeta had told Nappa that he didn’t want a lot of ingrate brats running around with powers greater than his and yet when Trunks had fallen Vegeta had forgotten to care about his own life in his efforts to make Cell pay for what he’d done. Vegeta had spent decades with Frieza, knowing that the bastard had destroyed Vegeta-sai and Vegeta had remained calculating as he waited for his revenge, even when he began to suspect that he might never be strong enough to defeat Frieza he hadn’t given in to the sort of rage and despair that Trunks’ death had stirred in him.

Vegeta hadn’t meant for it to happen. He’d tried to run from it once he’d seen that he was walking into the same trap that had stolen Radditz’s reason and left behind a shell but it hadn’t done him any good. His son and his mate had somehow become a vital part of him. He never wanted to feel what he’d felt when Trunks died ever again and the only way he could see to prevent that was to make damn sure he’d never fail again the way he’d failed the future Trunks.

He was well and truly ensnared; a faint ironic grin tugged at Vegeta’s mouth; so he might as well enjoy it. He and Bulma had gone back to having sex the night he’d returned. As with his training it had been easy for him to slip back into the routine they’d established before the Androids, before Bulma’s pregnancy, with regards to their relationship. In fact the only thing that had really changed about Capsule Corps in the intervening months was the lavender haired toddler who now resided there.

Vegeta obviously couldn’t resume the relationship he’d developed with Trunks during the year they’d spent training together in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber. He didn’t have the faintest clue as to what sort of relationship one could have with a squalling brat. So Vegeta superstitiously watched the demi-Saiyan child who was just beginning to learn to walk.

Vegeta had just finished his training for the day. He decided to eat dinner with the woman, the boy and her family. Sensing the boy’s ki he detoured through the livingroom on his way to the shower.

For several minutes Vegeta stood in the door and watched Trunks play with his grandfather.

“Da!” Trunks squealed happily.

Dr. Briefs turned and nodded to Vegeta.

Vegeta considered leaving since he’d been spotted but at the same time he didn’t want anyone getting the impression that he had been chased off.

“So do you plan on making an honest woman of my daughter?” Dr. Briefs asked casually after a few moments.

“What control do I have over her honesty?” Vegeta asked irritably.

Dr. Briefs sighed. “Just an expression Vegeta. An unmarried woman who is obviously sexually active; and a child is fairly good proof of sexual activity you must admit; is thought poorly of in our culture. The stain on the woman’s honor is considered erased if the man she was with marries her.”

Dr. Briefs chuckled lightly. “Of course Bulma would be rather upset with me if she knew I started this conversation; considers that sort of thing a bit archaic I believe.”

Vegeta thought about what Dr. Briefs had said for several moments. Apparently his and the woman’s relationship had, somehow, compromised her honor by human standards of behavior. Since he could do something to restore her honor and hadn’t his honor was compromised as well. But Bulma didn’t seem to think it was worth mentioning and since she was the only human who’s opinion was even vaguely worth considering he decided it didn’t matter to him.

Dr. Briefs looked a little embarrassed. “I guess what I’m really asking is if you intend to stay,” he said. “Bulma is my little girl and you broke her heart when you left before.”

Vegeta considered the older man. “I don’t intend her harm,” he said after a long time. He nodded toward Trunks and added. “Her or the boy. Not hurting people is something I have little experience with,” he admitted.

Dr. Briefs grimaced at that. “All that I can do is ask that you try.”


	2. Child Minding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vegeta... Babysitting

“Woman, your machine is broken!” Vegeta shouted into the intercom.

A few moments later a harassed-looking Bulma appeared on the vid-screen, she was carrying Trunks. “Look Trunks, it’s your daddy,” she cooed at the boy.

“Da!” Trunks exclaimed in agreement.

“Yes, he is,” Bulma cooed. “And he’s just like you. He thinks I should drop everything I’m doing to pay attention to him just like you do! Isn’t that right Trunksie?”

“Woman, if you’re going to try to insult me do it directly, not through the brat,” Vegeta stated.

A sly smile crossed Bulma’s face then she looked up from Trunks to meet Vegeta’s eyes. “Well it just so happens that Trunks and I are the only ones home right now. And he’s been fussy all day so if you want anything from me you’re going to have to be willing to deal. Specifically I need a few hours to finish my project. So if you will watch Trunks while I finish my work and while I fix your GR it’ll get fixed today. If not you’ll just have to wait.”

Vegeta considered the deal. He frequently watched Trunks, from a distance while someone else watched him from close up. “What does this ‘watching’ entail?” he asked.

Bulma’s eyes sparkled evilly. “The whole nine-yards,” she said. “If he cries you deal with it. You feed him when he gets hungry. You change his diaper if he smells bad. You deal with it if he screams bloody murder if he’s not the center of your attention every second of the day.”

“I’m not changing diapers,” Vegeta declared.

“Done!” Bulma exclaimed. “You can come get me if he needs changed; otherwise you’re on your own for the afternoon. Meet me in Trunks’ room as soon as you’ve showered.”

Vegeta gave Bulma a dark look, he knew that he’d been had. Still, if the situation got too annoying he was certain the woman would coming running to deal with her brat as soon as he called. After all, he was infamous across the galaxy for the destruction of countless worlds, who in their right mind left someone like him in charge of a small child?

Vegeta got cleaned up then headed upstairs. As soon as Bulma saw Vegeta she smiled, waved and slipped out of the room leaving Vegeta alone with his son. “Have fun,” she called back to him.

“Hn.” Vegeta said.

“Da! Da! Da!” Trunks chanted demandingly as he stretched his pudgy little arms through the bars of his playpen.

Vegeta crossed his arms and glared down at the boy. After a few minutes Trunk’s features drew into a scowl. He glared right back at his father. When that didn’t work Trunks threw back his head and wailed. He stretched his hands up to his father demanding that he be picked up and comforted. Unlike every other adult in Trunks’ life Vegeta did not give in to his cries.

Vegeta gave the playpen a distasteful look. “I can see why you don’t like being in a cage,” he commented. “But only a fool or a weakling whines about his circumstances instead of trying to change them.”

Trunks stopped wailing at the sound of his father’s deep, gravely voice. He stared up at the man as if giving Vegeta a chance to explain himself.

Vegeta glanced toward the door to make sure his actions were unobserved then he knelt beside the playpen and pushed lightly against one of the plastic bars. The material groaned in protest then gave way.

Trunk looked at the new gap in his playpen with fascination then gave his father a worshipful look. He waited for Vegeta to finish the job of releasing him from his confinement.

Vegeta snorted. “I told you brat: If you want something, get it for yourself.”

Whether or not Trunks understood his father’s words was debatable but after a few minutes he grabbed the bar next to the one Vegeta had broken and shook it. He glanced toward Vegeta hopefully.

Vegeta stood up and crossed his arms.

Trunks huffed then grabbed the bar with both small hands and started pushing. After a few minutes Saiyan strength won out over human construction and the bar broke. Trunks crawled through the gap at lightening speed; straight across the room to his father.

Vegeta went unnaturally still the moment his tiny son latched on to his leg. When he glanced down at the boy he saw a golden skinned child with green hair, a child no older than his son.

Trunk tugged on Vegeta’s pant leg. “Up!” he demanded.

Vegeta didn’t move, he didn’t even breath. When the alien child looked up at him he wasn’t at all surprised to see that the golden skinned child’s skull was caved in, after all he’d inflicted that wound.

Trunks laboriously pulled himself to his feet using Vegeta’s leg for balance. “Up!” he repeated. “Up Da!”

Vegeta blinked and when he looked back the child was his son once again. He remained frozen, irrationally he wondered if the wounds would reappear on Trunks the moment he touched the boy. The other child had been looking for his parents, trustingly he’d come up to Vegeta and tugged at his clothing to get his attention, and Vegeta had killed him... over ten years ago.

Trunks scowled. He reached up a far as he could and grabbed a handful of fabric then tried to climb up into Vegeta’s arms. While his physical strength was adequate for the task of lifting his slight body weight Trunks lacked the co-ordination to climb very far. A few seconds later he thudded back to the floor, his diaper absorbed most of the impact but the betrayal of not being caught started him wailing again.

Vegeta took advantage of the moment to move out of Trunks’ reach. “You’re out of the cage; what more do you want boy?” Vegeta demanded.

Trunk snatched up his nearest toy and hurled it at his father.

Vegeta snatched it out of the air and put it on a shelf. “If you’re going to throw it at me you won’t get it back,” he stated.

Trunks sulked until he thought Vegeta was ignoring him again then threw another toy at the back of the Prince’s head.

Vegeta turned and caught it without effort. “It was a good strategy,” he told the boy. “But just because I’m not watching you doesn’t mean I’ve lowered my guard.”

Trunks blew a raspberry at him.

“You must get that from your mother,” Vegeta said. “I would never be so undignified.”

Trunks threw another toy.

Vegeta reached up and caught it. “But your aim isn’t bad.”

Trunks laughed gleefully.

* * *

  
  
For a time Trunks’ new game of throw things at Daddy kept the lavender haired boy happily entertained.

Vegeta dealt with his own boredom by seeing just how long he could wait before plucking Trunks’ latest projectile out of the air. He kept his arms at his sides, waiting until the latest object was less than a millimeter from his body before even trying to catch it. Watching Vegeta’s hand blur, disappear and seeing the item he’d thrown vanish only to reappear on the shelf behind Vegeta added to Trunks’ fascination with the game.

Trunks waved his hands back and forth in the air as fast as he could then gave them a disappointed look when they didn’t vanish like his father’s.

Vegeta snorted in amusement at the boy’s antics. “Your eyes will always be able to see your own movements, no matter how fast you get,” he told the boy.

Trunks scowled and tried harder to make his hands disappear.

After a time Trunks started sending hopeful glances toward the door. Over the course of a few minutes the glances became longer and were accompanied by sniffles. Trunks pointed to the door. “Mama?” he asked.

“Your mother is busy,” Vegeta informed the boy.

“Mama!” Trunks repeated more stridently.

“She will return later.”

“MAMA!!” Trunks screamed, his cries rapidly escalated to a full-out tantrum.

Vegeta raised his voice to override Trunks’ screams which only prompted more ear-splitting wails from Trunks.

* * *

 

“Woman!” Vegeta shouted over the intercom, in the background Bulma heard Trunks wailing plaintively for her. “Come deal with your brat!”

Bulma smirked when she activated the Vid-Screen and saw that Vegeta’s hands were clapped firmly over his ears.

“Trunks sounds like he’s hungry and over-tired,” she informed Vegeta. “Pick him up and give him one of the bottles from the fridge while you hold him. He should settle right down.” She hung up on Vegeta.

Vegeta stared at the darkened screen in shock; there was something wrong with the boy and the woman expected him to fix it? For a self-proclaimed genius Bulma could occasionally display a profound lack of common sense. He was the prince of a race which had been infamous across the galaxy for the destruction they’d wrought. Vegeta had long since lost count of the number of cities; hell, the number of worlds he had personally destroyed. He didn’t fix things; he broke them! And the woman should know that.

Trunks showed no signs of calming down and his shrill cries were wrecking havoc on Vegeta’s nerves. He decided he could handle getting the boy a bottle. If nothing else it would get him out of the room for a few minutes.

The moment the door shut behind Vegeta Trunks’ cries rose to a fevered pitch. His doting grandparents had mysteriously vanished, his mother hadn’t come when he wanted her and now his father was leaving him. In all his months of life Trunks had never felt so abandoned.

When Vegeta came back ten minutes later Trunks’ wails had tapered off to a miserable sniffling.

Vegeta set the bottle on the floor beside the boy. Trunks ignored it and continued whimpering. Vegeta grimaced. Trunks curled up in an unhappy ball. He looked tiny, frail, helpless and lost; nothing at all like the teenaged warrior Vegeta had grown used to having around.

Vegeta sighed, reluctantly he sat on the floor beside Trunks. Cautiously he nudged the boy. Trunks crawled into Vegeta’s lap and curled up against his chest. Vegeta handed the boy his bottle and wondered if there was any way they could skip this stage with this version of Trunks as well.

* * *

 

Bulma held out for half an hour before giving in to the urge to check on her baby and his father.

She was almost positive she’d correctly diagnosed Trunks’ complaint and her instructions to Vegeta had been simplicity itself. Still it was Vegeta and Bulma was completely certain that no one had ever dreamed of asking him to hold a baby before.

Bulma walked into Trunks’ room and grinned. Vegeta was sitting on the floor with Trunks asleep in his lap.

“Woman, take your brat,” Vegeta hissed and Bulma noticed how tense he looked.

When Vegeta didn’t stand up and hand her Trunks Bulma became even more confused. “Why didn’t you just put him in his crib after he fell asleep?” she asked as she gently freed Vegeta’s shirt from Trunks’ clenched fist.

Vegeta watched Trunk’s tiny hand vanish in Bulma’s; he handled her as if she were made of spun glass.

Bulma’s eyes followed Vegeta’s gaze. “You won’t break him,” she said. “You’re good at judging your strength and he’s sturdier than you might think. Gohan was only four when Piccolo started training him.”

‘Roughly the same age I was when I was sent to Frieza,’ Vegeta thought unexpectedly, but he didn’t say anything.

“I’d rather you didn’t dump Trunks in the middle of nowhere and make him survive on his own for six months, but he can handle it if you pick him up,” Bulma continued.

Vegeta flushed slightly.

Bulma smiled. “I was nervous the first time I held him too,” she said.

“I do not get nervous,” the Saiyan Prince informed her.

“Of course not,” Bulma snickered. She turned to lay Trunks in his crib then her eyes widened. “What happened to the playpen?”

This time it was Vegeta who was amused. “Apparently the boy didn’t care for his cage.”

“Oh!” Bulma moaned in dismay. “How am I going to keep him in one place now? Oh well, it’s not like I don’t have plenty of ultra-tough materials lying around...”

She laid Trunks down in his crib then spent several minutes rubbing his back to make sure he’d stay asleep if left on his own. She turned on the baby-monitor and smiled at Vegeta. “Thanks for watching him,” she said. “I’m just about ready to start work on the GR. And you’re off the hook, it should be alright to leave him now.”

 


	3. First Date

Vegeta didn’t bother to glance up when the vid-screen came on to interrupt his training.

Bulma didn’t bother to wait for him to acknowledge her. “Mom and Dad are taking Trunks. I haven’t been out since before he was born, well expect for stuff dealing with the Androids or Cell, and I just realized that we’ve never been on a date.”

“Your point?” Vegeta asked.

“We’re going out tonight,” Bulma informed him.

“Want to bet?” Vegeta asked responding more to Bulma’s presumption that she could tell him what to do than to the idea of a ‘date’, whatever that was.

“Come have dinner with me,” Bulma cajoled. She grinned wickedly. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

Vegeta glanced up, his interest perked. He hid a smirk. “Where are we going to eat?” he asked.

“Don’t worry, they’ll have plenty of food,” Bulma replied.

“I suppose I’d have to eat your cooking if I don’t,” Vegeta said without enthusiasm.

“Worse,” Bulma told him. “You’ll have to eat your own cooking, ‘cause I’m going out with or without you.”

“All right, but don’t make a habit of it,” Vegeta conceded.

“You might like it,” Bulma replied.

“Hell might freeze over,” Vegeta returned.

Bulma assumed an expression of shock. “Did the Saiyanjin Prince just use an Earther expression? And correctly at that?” she sniped. “Hell has frozen over. Be ready at seven. I’ll lay out clothes for you.”

“They’d better not be pink,” Vegeta warned as Bulma disconnected.

 

* * *

 

As requested Vegeta was showered and dressed in the black slacks and navy shirt Bulma had pulled out of his closet at seven that night.

Bulma met him in the living room wearing a strapless red dress with a short, straight skirt.

“My don’t you two look gorgeous,” Bunny gushed. “You think your parent are pretty don’t you Trunks-chan?” she asked her grandson.

Trunks waved his arms and screamed enthusiastically. Bunny handed the baby to her husband. “Just hang on a second while I get a camera.”

“Mom! I’m not in high school,” Bulma protested.

“Exactly dear, I don’t have any recent pictures of you and I don’t have any pictures of Vegeta at all,” Bunny replied, undeterred. “It’ll just take a moment.”

Vegeta crossed his arms and scowled as Bunny pointed the camera at him. Bulma sulked for a few seconds then wrapped her arms around Vegeta and smiled for the camera.

“See, that didn’t hurt,” Bunny said. “Have a good time!”

“Trunks, be good for Grandma and Grandpa,” Bulma instructed as she kissed her son goodbye. “No more escape artist, ‘kay?”

“ ‘Scape!” Trunks giggled.

Vegeta smirked at his son’s enthusiasm for the ‘game’ he’d taught the boy. Trunks had caught on to the general idea remarkably fast. When Bulma rebuilt the playpen using scraps from the material used in the GR, something the ten-month old demi-Saiyan had no hope of bending, he’d learned to tip the whole contraption over by throwing himself at the sides. When Bulma weighted the base he learned a wobbly jump/climb to go over the side. All it took was Vegeta demonstrating that the playpen was an obstacle to be over-come, not an impenetrable barrier.

“No ‘scape,” Bulma scolded.

Trunks looked chastised for a brief moment. Bulma decided to count that as a victory and left.

When she decapsulized a hovercar Vegeta sneered at it. Bulma stuck out her tongue at him. “You just don’t like cars because you haven’t learned to drive,” she said.

“You only like them because you’re too slow and too weak to manage on your own,” Vegeta replied.

“And too smart to let a little thing like that slow me down,” Bulma replied. “Get in; I suped it up enough to give even you a run for your money.”

“I’ll believe that when I see proof,” Vegeta replied as he took the passenger’s seat.

Fourteen hair-raising minutes later they landed in front of the restaurant and every other driver on the road breathed a sigh of relief. “Impressive... for a human contraption,” Vegeta allowed. “But you should have clocked my top speed before boasting, Saiyans have always been superior to mere technology.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it all before,” Bulma pouted good-naturedly. She popped the hover-car back into its capsule then they went in. “Reservations for Bulma Briefs,” she said to the host. And they were led to a secluded table.

Vegeta looked pleasantly surprised as he claimed the chair that put his back to the wall.

“I didn’t want to use up your tolerance for crowds right off the bat,” Bulma said.

They studied the menus for several minutes.

“Tonight the special is a baked Salmon,” their waiter informed them.

“I’ll have the stuffed quail,” Bulma said.

Vegeta turned his menu toward the waiter. “I don’t want that or that,” he said. “Bring me one of everything else and the special.”

The waiter looked bemused.

“He’s serious,” Bulma assured the man. “We’d also like a bottle of red wine, your house cabernet, I think.”

“About um... How should we....” The waiter began uncertainly.

“Just bring the dishes out as soon as they’re ready,” Bulma instructed.

After seeing Vegeta go through the first couple of courses the waiter stopped looking doubtful and recruited one of his co-workers to help him keep up.

“How are the new training droids working out?” Bulma asked.

Vegeta paused and set his food aside for a moment. “Their agility is almost acceptable; but they should withstand at least one direct hit.”

“Fat chance of that,” Bulma snorted.

Vegeta smirked.

Bulma chattered on about various improvements she was considering. Vegeta went back to cleaning out the restaurant of food while occasionally interjecting comments on his observations of the robot’s capabilities.

When the servers stopped bringing food Bulma led Vegeta outside and around the block.

“What? We’re not done yet?” Vegeta asked.

“Not even close,” Bulma said.

Vegeta rolled his eyes but let her pull him into a bar with a large dance floor. Bulma picked a table over-looking the floor.

After several minutes a song Bulma liked came on and she stood up. “Coming?” she asked.

“Absolutely not,” Vegeta replied.

“Well have fun watching,” Bulma returned and made her way to the floor.

Bulma locked eyes with Vegeta. She began tapping her heel along with the music. Then her hip picked up the beat. Slowly her hands rose over her head as she gyrated to the music.

At first Vegeta allowed himself a slight grin as he enjoyed her gracefulness and the suggestive nature of her movements. Then he noticed other males noticing Bulma. Several of them even moved into her vicinity, hoping to catch her eye. Vegeta scowled and jumped over the railing to the dance floor. He stalked to Bulma’s side and glared proprietorially at the encroaching males. Then Bulma pressed herself against him, her arms twined around his neck and she slowly slid down his body still writhing in time to the music.

Vegeta flushed. “Woman, I thought you were opposed to doing that in public!”

“I’m not doing ‘that’, I’m dancing,” Bulma laughed. She leaned into him, her lips brushed his ear as she whispered. “Dancing is a vertical expression of a horizontal intention. ‘That’ comes later; after we’ve gotten all worked up here.”

“Why waste time?” Vegeta asked.

Bulma giggled. “Think of it as foreplay.”

Vegeta tossed her over his shoulder, “Enough foreplay,” he said as he hauled her out of the club. Bulma heard more amusement in his tone than irritation.

“Vegeta, you’re acting like a caveman!” she shrieked before being overcome with laughter.

As soon as they were outside Vegeta leapt into the sky.

“No! No! NO! Not with me upside down!” Bulma shrieked. “Vegeta, I’m gonna be sick!”

Vegeta grunted and shrugged her off his shoulder.

Bulma spread her arms and squealed with delight as she fell.

A few seconds later Vegeta caught her to his chest. He stared into her eyes. “It never once occurred to you that I might not catch you.”

He saw in her face that it hadn’t even crossed her mind, not even after he’d failed to protect her from Dr. Gero, something Mirai-Trunks had never completely forgiven him for.

“You said you didn’t want to hurt me and I trust you,” Bulma said quietly. “I’ll try not to put myself in need of rescue too often; I understand you might be too busy to notice...”

“I was trying to shut you and the boy out of my mind. It was a mistake,” Vegeta admitted.

Bulma buried her face I the crook of Vegeta’s neck. “Thank you,” she whispered in a husky voice. She’d never expected anything approaching an apology about that.

After a moment Bulma pulled back, she suspected that Vegeta wouldn’t appreciate her making too much of it, or ever mentioning this again.

A bit of mischief entered her eyes as she remembered Vegeta justifying not kicking her out of his bed -well his Gravity Room- after the first time they’d had sex by mentioning that he ‘might want to do that again’. She grinned, in spite of being a warrior feared throughout the Universe Vegeta was a bit of a prude.

“Besides,” she said. Her hand slid down Vegeta’s chest, over his muscular stomach... “If you let me go splat who’d take care of this?” she squeezed lightly.

They dropped several dozen feet before Vegeta regained the power of flight.

“Woman!” Vegeta exclaimed. His face colored lightly.

“What?” Bulma asked innocently. “Not used to girls being forward?”

“I’m used to people showing me the proper deference,” Vegeta informed her.

“I bet that bored you silly,” Bulma said.

‘They certainly hadn’t held his interest the way this fiery, fearless, insane woman did,’ Vegeta thought to himself. When Vegeta had approached any of the camp followers who lived on the outskirts of Frieza’s army they’d generally acquiesced more out of fear of what he might do than out of anything else.

“Woman, you’re driving me crazy,” Vegeta muttered.

Bulma pressed herself up against him, her hands busily roaming over his body. “That’s the idea,” she laughed.

Vegeta spotted a secluded spot and landed before Bulma’s fooling around could cause him to crash.

Bulma’s eyes widened at the urgency in Vegeta’s expression. As he reached for the zipper on his pants she slid her hand underneath her skirt. If Vegeta hadn’t been ready to take her then and there the sight of her with her short skirt hiked up and her hand between her legs would have done it to him. He pushed Bulma’s hand aside and replaced it with his own. Bulma gasped as he touched her.

Slowly he walked her backwards until he had her pressed against a tree trunk. When he entered her Bulma arched back as her body accepted his invasion. It ended all too soon from Bulma’s perspective. Vegeta laughed at her sulky expression as he swept her up and took to the air again. “It’s your own fault for being a tease,” he told her.

Mentally Bulma started planning revenge but when they arrived at Capsule Corp Vegeta surprised her by ignoring the door in favor of her bedroom window. As they landed he found the zipper on the back of her dress.

“You have an evil mind,” Bulma commented as the dress slid to the floor.

“Yes, I do,” Vegeta agreed as he pushed her back onto her bed and shrugged off his shirt. Playing with her head had been fun but that didn’t mean he was going to miss out on playing with her body.

His hands brushed lazily over her form as he enjoyed the way she shook with desire and whispered his name in pleading tones. In the end she buried her face against his shoulder, the last thing she wanted was to wake the baby sleeping in the next room by screaming.

 


	4. Vegeta vs. the Tabloids

“It looks like someone had a good time the other night,” Bunny Briefs giggled as she showed her daughter the tabloid she’d picked up at the grocery store that morning.

The front page had a prominently placed picture of Vegeta hauling Bulma out of the dance club like a sack of potatoes. “Heiress Bulma Briefs Shows Her Wild Side!” the title screamed while a banner subtitle asked “Could he be the father of Bulma’s illegitimate baby?”

“Ugh,” Bulma groaned. “I didn’t even notice the vultures.”

“Then it must have been a good date,” Bunny said cheerfully.

Bulma grinned. “Yeah Mom, Vegeta and I had a good time. He might even let me drag him out of the GR again without putting up too much of a fuss.”

“How was Trunks?” Bulma asked.

“Oh you know he’s always a little angel for his grandma,” Bunny replied. “He helped me feed the dinosaurs. He almost convinced Sunshine to let him ride her.”

“Mother!” Bulma exclaimed. “Sunshine is two and a half tons of ill tempered triceratops! Trunks is sturdy for his age but really Mom! He’s not indestructible!”

“I was right there dear,” Bunny stated. “I would have put a stop to it if Sunshine started getting agitated. You know she obeys me.”

Bulma sighed. “Please don’t let my baby play with anything that could potentially squash him flat.”

“Alright dear. But speaking of Trunks, breakfast is almost ready. You’d best go wake him.”

When Bulma came back downstairs carrying Trunks with her Vegeta and her father had already joined Bunny in the kitchen. To no one’s surprise Vegeta hadn’t opted to wait for Bulma and Trunks before beginning his meal.

Bulma situated Trunks in his high chair then put a bowl of mush in front of him.

Trunks promptly slapped both hands in the mush splattering it everywhere.

Bulma caught his hands and strained to keep Trunks from repeating the action. “Eat nice,” she instructed.

“No!” Trunks exclaimed sulkily.

“Trunks,” Bulma warned. Bunny wiped off the table and refilled Trunks’ bowl.

Trunks pouted.

“No playing with your food Trunks,” Bulma reiterated.

Trunks scowled and poked at the mush. He licked it off his finger then made a face.

Bulma added some sweetener. “Better now?” she asked.

Trunks stuck his tongue out at her and went on playing with his food.

“Why are you all dressed up Dad?” Bulma asked as she decided it was best to just ignore her son’s antics.

Dr. Briefs sighed. “Dr. Predise, my mentor when I first started out, died. His funeral is today.”

“What killed him?” Vegeta asked. Bulma was delighted by his effort at making small talk.

Dr. Briefs looked slightly startled. “Well it wasn’t so much that he was killed, he just died.”

A faint look of incomprehension crept into Vegeta’s eyes.

“He was my mentor,” Dr. Briefs clarified. “He was getting on in years. He died of old age.”

“How long do Saiyans live on average?” Bunny asked curiously.

Vegeta shrugged. “You live until you set yourself against someone stronger.”

Dr. Briefs looked up in surprise. “You mean a Saiyan’s physical condition doesn’t deteriorate with age?” he asked. “How old was the oldest member of your race.”

“Nappa was the oldest I knew of,” Vegeta replied. “He was in his sixties when I killed him.”

For several minutes the only sound in the kitchen was the clatter of Trunks playing with his bowl as the three humans stared at Vegeta.

“What?” Vegeta demanded.

“Well it’s just...” Dr. Briefs began then trailed off. “While most humans would show signs of age related deterioration by their sixties our life spans, taking modern technological advancement into consideration averages around a hundred and twenty years,” he explained.

“Vegeta?” Bulma asked hesitantly. “Have you ever known anyone who died of natural causes?” Bulma knew the answer when she saw the blank look in his eyes at the term ‘natural causes’, but something forced her to clarify. “Have you ever known someone who didn’t die through violence?”

“No,” Vegeta said shortly and went back to his meal leaving the three humans in stunned silence.

When Vegeta got tired of being stared at he passed his plate to Trunks and walked out.

Trunks abandoned his mush and gleefully grabbed the remains of his father’s steak. He started gnawing on it enthusiastically.

“I guess he’s ready for solid foods,” Bulma remarked distractedly.

“I told you there was a reason he was born with teeth,” Dr. Briefs remarked but it was obvious that his mind was still on Vegeta. “How old was he when Vegeta-sai was destroyed?”

“Ten or eleven,” Bulma said quietly.

“And he’s been a mercenary since then?”

“No, he’d been one of Frieza’s fighters for years before his planet was destroyed,” Bulma said. “I just never thought...”

Dr. Briefs winced. “I had no idea. I realized he was ignorant of human customs but that he’s never had a live apart from battle before... You do like a challenge don’t you Bulma-chan?”

 

* * *

 

Vegeta glanced at the GR but kept walking. Capsule Corp seemed too claustrophobic at the moment. With a small grunt of irritation Vegeta took to the skies. He sought out a barren landscape then set about rearranging it.

He knew fighters eventually passed their prime, but it had never occurred to him that someone might live long enough to die of simple infirmity. In Frieza’s army as soon as you faltered your rivals started swarming like carrion eaters around a soon-to-be corpse. The non-combatants had an even lower life expectancy than the fighters. The technical personnel were easily replaceable. If one of them ticked you off or if you were having a bad day you could always kill a few dozen of them to blow off steam. When you needed more you just went to the nearest planet and asked for ‘volunteers’. “Who wants to live?” was an amazingly effective recruitment speech. As for the camp followers, their lives were pure hell. Frieza filled his ranks with sadistic bastards and the camp followers were only tolerated because the mercenary ranks liked having a ready supply of ‘toys’ to play with. They barely qualified as whores, a whore expected to be paid and they just hoped they wouldn’t be killed by the ones who took interest in them.

Under Frieza’s thumb life had no value. The entry fee into Frieza’s mercenary force was simple: a hundred of your brethren’s bodies in a pile. Vegeta snorted as he remembered the filthy samurai who’d chopped off his tail. He wondered if Yajirobe, the least of the Z-fighters, had what it took to join Frieza. The craven waste of flesh had made the opening bid when he tried to change sides, if Vegeta hadn’t already begun his rebellion against Frieza and if he hadn’t lost his tail to the worm they would have found out. Vegeta would have offered him the deal. After you killed a hundred of your own kind just to buy your life there wasn’t much left of your soul and that’s how Frieza had liked his followers.

Living in Frieza’s sphere of influence twisted everyone eventually. The Saiyan race had been slower to slide into complete depravity than most because they’d come as a race; they’d had a place to go home to where the average person on the street could look at them without seeing a monster. Most non-combatants on Frieza’s planets were either individuals who had survived their planet’s purge because Frieza had needed technicians or by catching someone’s eye. The mercenaries were the same. Fighter, technician or camp follower they all saw monsters when they looked at Frieza’s forces, especially when they looked in the mirror because they knew exactly what depth the person looking back at them had sunk to in order to survive.

Vegeta knew the years he’d spent under Frieza had taught him to enjoy killing and causing pain for it’s own sake rather than as a means to an end but dying had given him the clarity of mind to realize that he didn’t like that aspect of himself and his revival, accidental though it had been, had given him the chance to change. He wasn’t a nice person and had no desire to become any such thing, but he wouldn’t be the creature Frieza had molded him into either.

He’d known how he was going to die for most of his life, and he’d been proven right already, he just hadn’t stayed dead. Waking up in that shallow grave on Namek had been the second time in Vegeta’s life that everything he’d expected from life had been swept away, leaving him in awash in a reality he didn’t comprehend. But this time he’d found a place to collect himself, to discover what direction he wanted his life to take.

For the first time Vegeta tried to picture himself dying for some other reason than being killed by a stronger fighter. Dying of illness or just the natural deterioration of his body. The idea revolted him... Almost as much as the pity he’d seen in the eyes of the woman’s parents that morning.

Vegeta gave a shout and released a ki blast that leveled a mountain.

* * *

 

Six hours later there were several acres of dessert that would give the local cartographers fits when they checked their maps and Vegeta was feeling better, not to mention hungry.

“I’m getting soft,” Vegeta grumbled when he realized that he’d rather tolerate humans than kill something and ki-roast the meat.

Hungry or not Vegeta wasn’t in the mood to return to Capsule Corp yet. When he’d been a child he’d encountered beings who insisted on pitying him and he’d killed them for it. Many of them had known that he was going to kill them but they’d still looked at him and seen a trapped child rather than their murderer. Vegeta had always preferred the ones that hated him and spent their last breath cursing him.

He wouldn’t kill the woman’s parents, because they were her parents and because he found them remarkably tolerable for humans. But he still had to think of another means of getting the pity out of their eyes. And he was still hungry and he still didn’t want ki-roasted game. Vegeta didn’t know what to do about the former problem but the later was easily dealt with through a flight to a restaurant.

While he ate Vegeta could feel the humans staring at him. He glared murderously around the restaurant and most of the gawkers took the hint. The one that didn’t was superstitiously pointing a camera at Vegeta.

Vegeta stalked toward the man. The photographer gulped and tried to run. Vegeta let him run, like a cat lets a mouse think it can escape. After several minutes Vegeta grew bored with the game. Almost lazily he grabbed the photographer by the lapels and yanked him down to Vegeta’s eye level.

“What are you doing?” Vegeta asked calmly.

“Are you the father of Bulma Briefs’ child?” the man asked in a rush.

Vegeta considered the rampant stupidity so many humans insisted on displaying. “Is there a reason why I shouldn’t kill you?”

“WHAT!?!”

“If I were in your place I would think of one, quickly,” Vegeta advised.

The man looked into Vegeta’s cold, merciless eyes and saw his own death there. “Y-you can’t, that’s murder,” he stammered.

Vegeta smiled boredly. “Yes, that is what it’s called.”

“You were with Bulma Briefs, I was just trying to get a picture. We don’t get a whole lot on her. She’s the heiress to the most profitable company on the planet, but the only person at Capsule Corp who holds more patents than she does is her father. You try following her too often and she slaps you with an industrial espionage law suit. The only thing really juicy about her is the illegitimate kid and the disappearing acts she pulls and no one can follow her when she pulls one of those. I’m a freaking paparazzi, I was just doing my job!” the man babbled.

“So you harass the woman,” Vegeta interrupted. “You invade her privacy and now you wish to bother me. And I thought you were trying to come up with reasons for me not to kill you.”

Vegeta knew he wouldn’t actually kill the worm; one of the few times the woman had looked at him with real fear had been when he’d killed a mugger for her.

“I’m sorry. Please don’t kill me. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” the man whimpered.

Vegeta laughed cruelly. “I still haven’t heard a reason.”

“What do you want?” the man wailed.

“Leave me alone, leave the woman alone and leave the brat alone,” Vegeta instructed as he crushed the camera in his free hand. “And make sure the other worms like you understand my wishes.”

“Whatever you say. Please don’t kill me.”

“On the other hand, your body would prove an effective deterrent for others of your ilk,” Vegeta said in a thoughtful voice.

The paparazzi wet himself than passed out. Vegeta dropped him in the trash and flew back to Capsule Corp in much better spirits.

 

* * *

 

That night Vegeta found Bulma standing on her balcony watching the stars. She started when he landed silently behind her. When she recognized him she turned in his arms and kissed him. Her hands, initially braced against his chest, slowly slid up to twine around his neck as he pulled her flush against his body.

Much, much later as they lay together in a satisfied sprawl Vegeta absently tangled his fingers in Bulma’s silky hair.

“Saiyans were a warrior race,” he said quietly. “It’s in our blood, even Kakarrot, amnesiac, happy-go-lucky moron that he was. I’ve never wanted to be anything different.”

Bulma folded her arms across his chest as propped her chin up on them so that she could meet his gaze. “But Frieza made you-“

“Into a butcher. Left to myself I wouldn’t have slaughtered the ones who cowered helplessly in their hovels. I prefer my kills to be a challenge.”

There was a small silence between them. Vegeta’s expression was impassive. Bulma grimaced slightly at the reminder of her lover’s blood-thirsty nature.

Vegeta’s eyes warmed slightly. “I would change some of the things I’ve done if it were possible, but I would not change who I am. Do you understand that?”

Bulma sighed. “Are you happy, Vegeta?” she asked.

For a long time Vegeta was silent. He thought about his life now, he had his freedom, finally his people were avenged, he had her and the boy. “I could use an opponent worth fighting,” he said.

Bulma rolled her eyes. “You’re impossible.”

Vegeta chuckled. “Go to sleep woman. You worry about ridiculous things.”

 

 

 

 


	5. House Guests

A high pitched whooping alarm shattered the air at Capsule Corps. There were a number of different alarms equipped throughout the compound. A school bell sound with flashing red lights meant fire, a steady buzz with yellow lights meant a gas leak, a European police siren with strobe lights meant intruders. The whooping alarm was new, it was special, it meant that the baby had escaped once again.

Vegeta cursed and slapped his hands over his ears as he shouted for the GR to deactivate. He was certain that the woman had pitched that damn alarm specifically to irritate Saiyan ears. Training was impossible while the clammer of the alarm was making him feel like his brains were running out of his ears.

He raised his ki awareness until he could easily pick out the brat’s energy. In a flash he was standing over his wailing son. Like Vegeta, Trunks had his hands clapped over his ears, but in Trunks’ case the action caused a distinct loss of mobility. Trunks could either use his hands for balance or for blocking out the nasty noise that was assaulting his sensitive ears. Vegeta wondered if the brat’s wailing was an attempt to drown out the miserable alarm or just Trunks making his unhappiness known to the world at large.

Vegeta gritted his teeth and removed one hand from his ears. He grabbed Trunks by the back of the baby’s shirt and stalked off in the direction of his mate’s ki at a rapid pace, although it was no where near the invisible-to-the-untrained-eye speeds he’d employed before he’d been burdened with his son.

After a few moments Trunks forgot to cry. He spread his arms and giggled.

Vegeta found Bulma walking toward them, a rebuilt scouter covered one of her eyes as she used the device to track down her wayward son. Vegeta dumped Trunks in Bulma’s arms. “Shut off that infernal racket,” he ordered.

Bulma smirked and pressed a button on the scouter. The alarms went dead much to Trunks and Vegeta’s relief. ‘Obviously the alarm was pitched perfectly; it had driven Vegeta to join the search for his escaped child,’ Bulma thought.

“Mama! Trunks fly! Trunks fly!” the baby babbled excitedly as he waved his arms. Bulma held him at arms length until he calmed a bit.

“You did?” Bulma asked, her tone halfway between humoring a small child and half honest question. Someday she knew her son really would be able to fly but she was hoping it wouldn’t be today. It was hard enough to keep him contained without adding that to the mix.

“Dada up! Trunks fly!” Trunks explained spreading his arms the way he had while Vegeta had been carrying him like a bag of groceries.

Vegeta shrugged. Sometimes the brat was remarkably easy to amuse, other times it seemed to require an act of God to silence his wailing.

Bulma sighed and resolved to find some sort of reinforced clothing for Trunks. At the rate he was growing he was going to simply rip right out of them one of these days when Vegeta used them to pick the boy up. Bulma had realized that getting Vegeta to pick up the baby properly was a losing battle and Trunks had been able to support his own head within a few hours of his birth and sit up within a few days so it wasn’t doing him any harm.

Until Vegeta came into Trunks’ life the baby had been more or less content to let his mother or grandparents carry him everywhere but when Vegeta refused to carry Trunks the baby developed an almost instantaneous desire to get around on his own so that he could trail after his uncooperative parent and complain about Vegeta not carrying him.

Vegeta heard Bulma’s sigh and knew the reason for it. He knew it bothered her that he avoided touching their son whenever possible and he knew that she’d written off his reluctance to hold Trunks stemming solely from a bad case of what she called ‘new parent jitters’. Vegeta didn’t feel the need to let her know that while an infant did seem like a horribly frail thing to place in hands that had obliterated whole worlds he had an additional reason for not wanting to touch his son.

Trunks reminded Vegeta of every child he’d ever killed, of how utterly helpless they’d been against him. He remembered the second planet he’d purged, when he’d still been a small child himself, and wanting to leave the squalling infant he’d found alive. Nappa had taught him that it was a false mercy to leave an infant behind after killing off all the adults on the planet. It only condemned the child to a slower death from deprivation or the elements. Vegeta remembered that Nappa had killed the child himself, he remembered that while Vegeta-sai had still existed Nappa had tried to protect him from being exposed to the worst atrocities that happened during the purges. But when Frieza or his lieutenants had been around there could be no signs of weakness to be found in the Saiyan Prince. He remembered the feel of tiny bones crunching under his hands. He remembered that he’d always loathed killing children, but he’d always done as Frieza ordered even when it meant strangling his conscious.

And remembering that meant remembering that there had been a time when Nappa cared about such things and remembering how far the older Saiyan had fallen in depravity during the decades following Vegeta-sai’s destruction. Vegeta had learned to value a clean kill from Nappa as a child but over their years with Frieza they’d both become sadists. It was part of the madness that had faded from Vegeta once he’d escaped Frieza but by then Nappa had been dead. And dead by Vegeta’s own hand at that.

Bringing Nappa and Radditz back had crossed Vegeta’s mind. He felt nothing but contempt for the people he, Nappa and Radditz had become under Frieza’s rule but occasionally, lately, he found himself missing the people Nappa and Radditz had been in the beginning. Still he suspected that the woman’s friends would try to get in the way if he ever tried to bring them back. Besides what was the point of bringing Radditz back without his girl, his parents and his squad? And Nappa was undoubtedly happier surrounded by his fellow Saiyans even if the lot of them were in Hell. Even the Dragon Balls didn’t have the power to bring back a race that had been dead for over a quarter of a century now.

And a part of Vegeta was glad for that. As the Saiyan prince it was Vegeta’s responsibility to save his people if it were at all possible but if he were honest with himself he was sick of making sacrifices for a people who’d given him nothing in return. Vegeta watched Bulma bounce Trunks and coo at the boy about “what was she going to do with him and his escape artist tendencies?” This was so far from the life he had been meant to have and yet Vegeta couldn’t think of a time when he’d been more content.

Then the door bell rang. Vegeta sensed Kakarrot’s spawn and decided to follow the woman when she went to answer it.

“Oh my god! Chichi, you should have told me!” Bulma exclaimed as she opened the door.

Vegeta looked over Bulma’s shoulder to see what the fuss was about. “She’s gotten grotesquely fat, who cares?” he remarked.

Chichi glared.

Bulma elbowed Vegeta sharply.

“Mom’s going to have a baby,” Gohan informed the older Saiyan earnestly. The boy looked worried about the prospect.

“Good afternoon Bulma, Trunks,” Chichi said, pointedly excluding Vegeta from her greeting.

“Come in, sit down,” Bulma insisted. She gave Vegeta a dirty look, “I think I bruised my elbow on your abs,” she muttered.

Vegeta smirked.

“Bulma-san,” Gohan began uncertainly. “We were wondering, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, could we stay with you? Just until...” he glanced at his mother’s swollen stomach.

Chichi flushed. “I don’t want to put you out. I’d planned to have the baby at the house with the help of a midwife. And my dad’s about, but as I’ve been reminded, we live quite a ways from a hospital.”

Chichi’s gaze slid toward Gohan and Bulma realized who must have been worrying about the distance between Mt. Paouz and the nearest hospital. ‘It was no wonder,’ Bulma thought. Goku had only died a few months ago, it wasn’t too surprising that Gohan was a little nervous about his mom. Giving birth probably seemed like a pretty dangerous and scary thing to a not quite twelve-year-old boy. Bulma was only surprised that Gohan had brought Chichi here and not to the Lookout to have Dende oversee the delivery.

What Bulma didn’t know was that Gohan had dragged his mother up to the Lookout only to have Dende retreat while stuttering nervous excuses until Piccolo had more calmly pointed out that Namekians reproduced asexually and a human doctor would have more experience when it came to childbirth.

“Of course you two can stay!” Bulma exclaimed. “I’d be delighted to have you. She bounced Trunks on her hip. “Oooh this will be so cool! Trunksie will have another demi-Saiyan his own age to play with. I’ll bet they’re going to be best friends!”

Chichi smiled although there was a tired look in her eyes.

Vegeta looked at Gohan speculatively. “Boy, spar with me,” he ordered. He wondered how much of Gohan’s power could be accessed without the boy being pushed into a berserk rage.

Gohan fidgeted. “I’m sorry Vegeta-san, but I really should study,” he replied.

“And you call yourself a Saiyan,” Vegeta muttered as he walked off, disappointed that Gohan’s arrival hadn’t resulted in any sort of satisfying violence.

“Lets get you two settled in,” Bulma said cheerfully.

After Bulma showed them to the rooms where they’d be staying, Bulma and Chichi headed downstairs, leaving Gohan to his studies.

As they walked into the kitchen Bulma said, “Hi Mom, I’m just grabbing a bottle for Trunks. Oh and Chichi and Gohan will be staying with us for a few while.”

“Good afternoon dears,” Bunny greeted them cheerfully. She tickled Trunks under his chin. “So you’ve already been up to mischief young man,” she laughed. “Setting off all those alarms.”

Trunks giggled.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Chichi asked. “It’s the least I can do while you’re letting Gohan and I stay here.”

“No dear, you just sit down and have a nice visit with my Bulma-chan,” Bunny instructed. “I insist,” she said when Chichi looked like she was going to argue.

“So -um- how are you and Gohan doing?” Bulma asked afer she had Trunks settled.

Chichi hesitated. “Well, for once I wish Gohan wasn’t such a wonderful little scholar. The day I told him I was pregnant he flew off to the library and researched every possible way a pregnancy could go wrong. Lordy, but he worked himself into a state.”

“It was so different when I was pregnant with Gohan,” Chichi sighed. “I was the one going out of my mind with worry and it annoyed me to no end that Goku was so laid back about the whole thing.” She smiled to herself and chuckled. “He used to try everything I took a craving for. The faces he’d make. I miss him so bad.”

Bulma leaned over and gave her an awkward hug as Chichi started crying.

“Why didn’t he come back? Waiting through the fight, or when they were off in space was easier than this; at least then I could have hope.”

Trunks gave Chichi a worried look then reached out to pat her shoulder. “Mama, fix,” he instructed.

Chichi scrubbed at her eyes irritably. “Damned hormones, I’m okay honey.” She sighed, “I try so hard not to cry in front of Gohan. He’s got enough worries without me falling apart too.”

Bulma waited quietly.

“He makes a good show of being happy all the time. If you try to talk to him about it he always says he’s fine, but sometimes I wonder.”

* * *

  
  
Vegeta went back to his training regime and for a few hours he almost forgot about the interlopers. Oh he could always feel Gohan’s ki signature, and if they went at it full tilt Vegeta had little doubt that Gohan would destroy him, but in truth the boy was no threat. Kakarrot’s spawn was a berserker and paradoxically that made him very predictable. Vegeta understood Gohan’s triggers and he knew his own intentions, if they fought he knew that the boy would be incapable of releasing his true powers. And thus it was possible for him to just ignore the young power-house who had just moved into his domain. At least until Gohan’s ki disappeared.

Ever since Vegeta had learned that it was possible to sense ki he’d been training himself to acquire and use this new ability to its fullest extent. In the past few years it had become as important to him as his sight or his hearing; maybe even more so since it was a direct way of measuring the ability and battle-readiness of the people around him. He’d become attuned to the world around him through the ki he sensed. Even locked within the isolated confines of the Gravity Room Vegeta was aware of the thrum of life at Capsule Corp. The elder Briefs were comparatively weak but they set the pulse of life for everyone around them, changes in them would spread through Capsule Corp like ripples on a still pond. Bulma and Trunks were his, the ones Vegeta paid the most attention to, any sudden spike or drop in their energy would quickly draw his attention. Gohan was like a guest soloist in a orchestra, his ki was much stronger and more prominent than anyone else’s. When that ki suddenly went silent it might as well have been one of Bulma’s alarms going on as far as Vegeta was concerned.

Vegeta strengthened his ki-sense until he picked up the faint impression of Gohan’s suppressed energy even as he hid his own ki and then he went hunting. Either Gohan was hiding from him or observing some new threat, which ever it was Vegeta wanted to know what the brat was up to.

He found Gohan curled up in a ball behind the bushes growing around the building. Vegeta stared down at the boy in confusion. After a few moment Gohan felt the weight of his stare and turned a tear-stained face toward Vegeta. He quickly rubbed at his eyes and said, “I’m fine. Please don’t tell my mom.”

“Why would I chose to speak with that harpy?” Vegeta replied and turned away. The boy’s grief was nothing he wanted to be involved with.

“Thanks,” Gohan said softly. “I just- I know Dad said it wasn’t my fault but-“

“Don’t pretend to power you don’t have,” Vegeta interrupted harshly. “Kakarrot made his own choices, you had no control over that.” He didn’t look back to see what impact his words had on the boy.

* * *

 

Vegeta stormed over to the GR’s console and turned the gravity up three notches above Bulma’s recommended top-setting. Then he started his most demanding training exercises.

The sense of loss about Gohan reminded Vegeta that he had been roughly the same age when Vegeta-sai had been destroyed. Gohan’s loss of his father was obviously incomparable to what Vegeta had lost but still he knew how the boy felt and it was close enough to what he’d felt to trigger memories of a past Vegeta just wanted to forget. What had happened, happened. There was no changing that, and no point in dwelling on it, but for some reason his mind refused to acknowledge and adhere to that simple truth.

Vegeta had called Frieza’s court hell from the beginning, but the first few months after his planet’s destruction had redefined hell for him. Without Vegeta-sai he stopped being a hostage. His ‘sparring’ partners stopped feeling the need to keep him in anything vaguely resembling one piece. Zarbon in particular had been a problem, he’d hit upon the idea of denying Vegeta medical treatment as a form of punishment.

After the destruction of Vegeta-sai Vegeta had purged dozens of planets while ignoring broken bones or internal bleeding, curtsey of Zarbon. Needing to have his bones re-broken so they set properly when he was finally allowed access to a re-gen tank weeks or even months after sustaining the initial injury became routine.

And when Vegeta found himself walking on a broken leg there was something satisfying about listen to other people scream. If his life was nothing but an unending stream of pain and humiliation that would only end with his death why did anyone else deserve better?

It had taken nearly half a decade to happen but it started the day Vegeta-sai was destroyed. Slowly he’d lost hope that his life would ever get better. Lost hope that he’d ever be strong enough to stand up to Frieza or even Dodoria and Zarbon.

The vicious training regime helped drive back Vegeta’s memories but eventually even his stamina ran out. Still sleep, with the memories of his past running so close to the surface of his mind, seemed unlikely and unappealing. And brooding over something that was firmly in the past was distasteful to Vegeta.

After he’d cleaned up and raided the kitchen for a midnight meal Vegeta found himself turning toward Bulma’s room. He paused once he realized where he was going. He wasn’t in the mood for sex and after the previous night he had an inclination that the woman might be a bit too sore to want more as well. And yet, sleep came easier with her scent surrounding him and the feel of her heartbeat against his skin. His past always felt more distant when he was near her.

Bulma made a sleepy protest when Vegeta shifted her over so that he could claim his half of her bed but after a few minutes she was pressed up against him to take advantage of his warmth. Vegeta curled an arm around her possessively and let the sound of her soft, steady breathing lull him to sleep.

* * *

 

The next morning Bulma’s alarm clock died a very sudden death at Vegeta’s hands. Bulma blinked at him sleepily, unsure as to how he’d come to be sharing her bed since she was completely sure they hadn’t had sex that night. Still she liked waking up beside him so she wasn’t going to question it. At best a question like that would get her a sardonic remark about the quality of the bed in his room and at worst it could drive him off.

‘If he spends a third night in a row in my room, I’ll just have his things moved in here,’ Bulma decided. When she’d first begun her relationship with Vegeta Bulma had assumed that he’d dictate the pace but now she knew it worked out better if he were pushed into things, especially if it was done subtly enough to avoid bringing up that he rarely knew what the ‘next step’ in a relationship was without being nudged to take it.

A high pitched alarm shattered the morning. “Oh Trunks,” Bulma groaned as she recognized that particular alarm.

Vegeta clapped his hands over his ears. “You pitched the damn thing to hurt my ears,” he complained.

“ ‘Course, you taught him to escape, you ought to suffer for it,” Bulma replied sleepily. “Now go find your son and I’ll turn off the bad noise, ‘kay?”

Vegeta grunted irritably and got up, he’d already sensed Trunks’ energy moving unsteadily down the hall. The boy would be just outside the door in a few seconds, by his estimation.

Trunks was picking himself off the floor, both hands pressed over his ears when Vegeta stepped out into the hallway. As Vegeta grabbed Trunks by the back of his pajamas Gohan wandered into the hall, also holding his hands over his ears. “What is that awful noise?” he exclaimed.

“Take it up with the woman,” Vegeta said as he turned around and stalked back into Bulma’s room. He dropped Trunks on the bed beside her.  
  
“The control is still downstairs,” Bulma said. Both Saiyans stared at her, looking betrayed. “I’m going, I’m going,” Bulma promised. She pulled on a robe, scooped up Trunks and hurried downstairs to shut off the alarm.

By that time Chichi had joined Gohan in the hall. “Is it a fire? Should we go outside?”

“No, it’s just my escaping baby alert.” Bulma yelled. “I’ll turn it off.”

“Please?” Gohan begged, it crossed his mind that staying at Capsule Corp might not have been the brightest idea he’d ever had.

 


	6. Instinct

The big people were sitting around the table talking and eating. Trunks was watching the black ki-ki perched on his grandpa’s shoulder. He wanted the ki-ki. “Mama!” Trunks wailed. To his delight his mama picked him up and sat him on her lap; he was much closer to his target now. He curled his legs underneath him and threw himself at the ki-ki.

The ki-ki jumped down and to Trunks’ annoyance his grandpa caught him. Trunks twisted free and landed in a crouch. He pushed himself to his feet and darted after the ki-ki. When his balance failed after about three steps Trunks caught himself with his hands and kept going on all fours at a good pace.

‘Trunks no!” Bulma exclaimed when, to her surprise, he actually managed to catch the cat.

“Ki-ki!” Trunks shouted as he squeezed the cat enthusiastically.

“Be gentle,” Gohan said as he sat down beside Trunks and rearranged the cat so it was a bit more comfortable. “Pet the nice kitty.”

“He’s probably going to start chasing anything that moves,” Chichi told Bulma. “Gohan did the same as soon as he was mobile. He’ll catch quite a few things too, so you need to teach him not to hurt them right away.”

Vegeta snorted. “He’s trying to hunt. Saiyans can be self-sufficient at two years of age.”

Chichi glared at him. “You don’t have to let his instincts rule him,” she said to Bulma.

“Two?” Bulma squeaked. But she didn’t doubt it, Trunks was just over a year old now and he had caught the cat.

Vegeta shrugged. “With the help of implanted memories to reinforce their instincts. For the Infant Missions-”

“Like Goku being sent here as a baby?” Bulma interjected.

The look Vegeta gave her made his feelings on being interrupted quite clear. Bulma mimicked zipping her lips.

“-The pods were programed to take two years to reach their destination. That provided sufficient time for the child to develop enough to quickly attain a degree of coordination sufficient for hunting and time for the implanted memories to be reinforced through hypnotic suggestion.”

“That’s barbaric,” Chichi stated.

“Culling the weak made my race powerful,” Vegeta said flatly.

“Were you...” Bulma asked.

“No, my power-level at birth was well about the threshold. Infant Missions were devised to give underpowered children an opportunity to prove themselves.”

Chichi smiled nastily at Vegeta. “So you people threw Goku away and he grew-up stronger and better than any of you.”

Vegeta bared his teeth at her.

“Come on you two, play nice,” Bulma said.

Chichi stood up. “I should go see what exercises I can still finish.” She rubbed her stomach. “With this little one I need to keep my physical condition up.”

 

* * *

 

Several days later Vegeta found Gohan and Trunks playing a modified version of catch. Gohan rolled a large ball across the floor for Trunks to pounce on. When the ball escaped Trunks’ clutches Gohan retrieved it and set the game in motion again.

As Vegeta watched the ball, which was nearly as large as Trunks, popped out from under the boy and came flying toward Vegeta. He lightly flicked it with his fingers to send it sailing over Trunks’ head.

The little boy jumped up to bat it out of the air then chased it down on all fours to go for the kill.

Gohan grinned and nudged the ball in a new direction. Trunk twisted in mid-pounce and successfully captured his prey. His agility was increasing by the hour in Vegeta’s opinion.

Gohan smiled at the older Saiyan. “Mom was right about him chasing anything that moved. Bulma-san got nervous when he started hunting his grandmother’s dinosaurs. So I said I’d play with him. I’ve got to practice being an older brother you know.”

“You don’t think small do you, brat,” Vegeta commented to Trunks as he drifted closer.

The boy quit attacking the ball long enough to grin broadly at his father.

“Personally, I thought the dinosaurs had more to worry about than Trunks,” Gohan said.

When the ball popped out of Trunks’ grip again Gohan knocked it back toward Vegeta, deliberately angling it far enough away from Trunks that the little boy couldn’t intercept it. Vegeta flicked it back toward Trunks.

With Vegeta’s inclusion the game changed slightly. Where Gohan had been making it just hard enough to keep Trunks’ attention Vegeta wanted to know what the boy was capable of.

Eventually Trunks managed to get the enough of the ball into his mouth for a good bite. The ball popped with a loud bang and a whoosh of air. Trunks let out a startled wail. Gohan went to pick him up and suddenly Vegeta was seeing a different Saiyan boy reaching for the baby with a different intent. The shadows of a dozen other children huddled behind Trunks and stared up at the boy with confusion and betrayal in their faces.

Without thinking Vegeta backhanded Gohan through the wall.

“What the heck was that for?” Gohan demanded as he pulled himself out of the rubble.

Vegeta felt disoriented as he tried to force himself back to the present. “Hn.” he huffed then turned and stalked away.

Gohan planted himself in Vegeta’s path. “Why did you hit me?”

“Get out of my way brat or you’ll find out what I can really do,” Vegeta threatened.

In the background Trunks began to cry in earnest.

“What’s wrong with you!” Gohan exclaimed as he stole a glance at Trunks

“I’ll be damned before I tell you,” Vegeta muttered as he went to shove the young demi-Saiyan out of his way.

The admission that there was something wrong shocked Gohan enough that Vegeta managed it without difficulty. Vegeta stalked off, after moment Gohan decided to let him go and turned his attention to Trunks.

Vegeta went to the Gravity Room and turned it on as high as it would go. The punishing gravity made even basic calisthenics a challenge and that was exactly what Vegeta wanted, to sink his thoughts beneath a simple struggle to keep moving.

In spite of his efforts the memories still came.

It had been only a few months after Vegeta-sai’s destruction, even before they’d found Radditz.

_Vegeta blew away an isolated structure only to discover a woman and a dozen children cowering in a hidden basement. The children ranged in age from pre-teens slightly older than Vegeta himself to an infant clutched in the woman’s arms._

_For a long time Vegeta just stared down at the group. He knew if he didn’t kill them someone else would. He knew it would be more merciful to kill them all now than to bring them back to one of Frieza’s planets alive. He knew they were all doomed but they were a bunch of little kids! Even the ones who looked older than he was were just babies; their powers were so low they hadn’t even registered on his scouter. There was no glory in this, nothing for a warrior to celebrate. Fuck, he didn’t want to kill them._

_And what could Frieza do to him if he refused? Blow up his planet? Again? Vegeta laughed bitterly. And just like that he decided he was going to save them, because he didn’t feel like killing them and because Frieza had nothing to hold over his head anymore._

_“There’s a space port fifty miles west of here,” Vegeta told them gruffly. “If you don’t want to die come with me.”_

_A look of disbelieving hope filled the woman’s face, but there was fear there as well. She handed the baby up to Vegeta then helped the other children climb out of the now exposed bolt-hole. “Thank you. Thank you,” she kept repeating._

_The other children stared at Vegeta curiously._

_Vegeta grabbed two of the older children. “I’ll come back for the rest of you,” he promised as he took to the air. “The port will be destroyed before we get there if I wait for you to walk.”_

_The older children were rigid in Vegeta’s grasp. He could smell fear and suspicion on them. He was their only hope and they knew it, but they didn’t trust him. The younger children were less aware that Vegeta had to be ‘one of them’ they didn’t wonder why he’d had a change of heart, they just clung to him as their savior._

_It took Vegeta under twenty minutes to ferry the whole group to the space port._

_“The purge is still in the early stages. They haven’t accepted that the planet is doomed.” Vegeta told the woman. “No one is trying for an exodus yet. We’ve got our choice of ships.”_

_“Why are you helping us?” the beleaguered woman asked. “You came here to kill us.”_

_Vegeta have her a twisted grin. “I just realized He has nothing left to hold over me. I can do what I want. I don’t have to kill you if I don’t want to.”_

_Vegeta quietly commandeered one of the ships and loaded his little band of refugees on board._

_“I don’t know how to pilot this,” the woman protested._

_“I do, stop fussing at me,” Vegeta ordered._

_“You’re coming with us?”_

_Vegeta thought about that for a minute, about leaving Frieza behind along with everything he’d known. About leaving Nappa behind, who’d been a constant in his life since his birth, the only constant left in his life. ‘He’s better off without me,’ Vegeta thought to himself. ‘Without the Saiyan Crown Prince at his side he’ll blend in, he won’t be a target anymore.”_

_He turned to the woman. “Yeah, I guess I am.”_

_It took Frieza a week to track them down._

_The lizard came himself. He boarded the little ship Vegeta had chosen for his rescue/escape attempt with Zarbon and Dodoria flanking him. The two of them watched Vegeta with cruel anticipation in their eyes. Nappa stood behind them, he looked ashamed._

_“Vegeta, I treat you practically like my own and this is how you repay me?” Frieza tsked._

_Vegeta knew it was going to be bad when the lizard stood up from his hover chair._

_“What an ungrateful little brat you are after all I’ve done for you.”_

_Frieza’s first blow shattered Vegeta’s eye-socket._

_The hand Vegeta had been raising to defend himself ended up clamped over his injury instead._

_The kids huddled together in terror as Frieza brutally beat Vegeta._

_After the first few blows Vegeta stopped trying to defend himself and simply endured. He gritted his teeth and remained silent and on his feet as Frieza shattered his ribs and snapped his collarbone. He glared up hatefully at the tyrant when Frieza forced him to his knees by the simple expedient of breaking his leg. He only cried out when Frieza stomped on his tail, crushing delicate bones and shedding sensitive nerves._

_Frieza wrapped his tail around Vegeta’s neck like a garrote and dragged the boy to his feet. “I won’t tolerate this rebellious behavior Vegeta. Now you can either be a good boy and kill them for me or you can watch while Dodoria does it. And after your little pets are all dead I’ll allow Dodoria and Zarbon free reign with you. Zarbon in particular has waited for long time for me to withdraw my protection from you. He’ll take a very, very long time with killing you.”_

_Involuntarily Vegeta’s good eye shifted to Zarbon. The emerald haired alien was openly enjoying Vegeta’s pain. He felt his heart race at the though of being given to Zarbon._

_Frieza released Vegeta to collapse at his feet. “It’s your choice Vegeta-chan. I do hope you’ll make the right one.”_

_Vegeta forced himself to his feet in spite of the waves of agony washing through his body. Unsteadily he staggered across the room and reached for the first of the children..._

Uncontrolled images whirled though Vegeta’s mind. Kes and Gabret sketching a game board on the deck-plates of the ship. His eye slowly oozing out of it’s shattered socket. His hand plunging through the chest of a little kid who had looked up at him in awe. Frieza’s cruel laughter. The stench of blood, his own and others. Hale talking authoritatively about girls only to have one of the girls laugh in the boy’s face. A skull crunching under his fist. The feel of broken bones grating against each other in his chest. A baby’s high pitched cry cut off mid-wail. “I’m Kes, what’s your name?” “Now you can either be a good boy and kill them for me or you can watch while Dodoria does it.” Sad gentle eyes staring into his. “I forgive you Vegeta.” The edge of his hand striking her neck with such force that he tore her head clean off her shoulders.

Vegeta felt his heart racing, adrenalin flooded his system. He couldn’t tell where or when he was. He could smell the blood and feel the injuries he’d suffered as if they were new.

“I forgive you.”

He fell to his hands and knees and threw up violently. Vegeta fought down a wave a disbelief, he hadn’t reacted this badly to a purge since he’d been seven years old, hadn’t reacted at all, ever again after that failed rescue attempt.

He lashed out almost blindly and tore the door off it’s hinges then staggered outside, his vision still obscured by scenes from the past. The need to run, to hide his vulnerability was at war with the sense that he was already within the best refuge he’d ever find.

“What’s your name?” One arm dangling uselessly at his side. “Thank you for saving us.” A headless body toppling to the ground. And the memories dragged him under again.

A cool rag washing his face. A slim hand tilting his head up. “Vegeta?” the worried voice sounded distant but it drew him back until he was staring into sky-blue eyes.

Bulma sagged in relief when she saw recognition and awareness in Vegeta’s gaze. “My god Vegeta, what happened?”

Vegeta could see fear in her eyes but there was something strange about it. He stared at her for several moments before he realized that she wasn’t afraid of him, she was afraid for him. The memory was still fresh and raw in Vegeta’s mind but the confusion had faded, the memory wasn’t intruding on the present anymore.

“I thought your mother cooked, not you,” Vegeta said gruffly.

Bulma shook her head at Vegeta’s insulting avoidance of her concern, but the fear was still present in her eyes.

“Keh,” Vegeta spat then sighed. “I took a blow to the stomach, alright? Satisfied woman?”

Bulma sighed, she rested her cheek against Vegeta’s. “Be okay,” she whispered.

After several moments Vegeta reached up to cradle her face. “I always am.”

 


	7. A Formal Affair

“What the hell are you doing?” Vegeta demanded when Bulma shoved a thermometer in his ear at breakfast the next morning.

Chichi and Gohan stared at them in surprise.

“I’m taking your temperature so sit still,” Bulma replied. “Since you wouldn’t go to the infirmary, I’m bring it to you.”

“Vegeta-sweetie are you feeling under the weather?” Bunny asked worriedly.

Dr. Briefs glanced up from his efforts to get Trunks to use utensils for something other than projectiles.

“I am not sick,” Vegeta insisted.

“Because throwing-up is a sure sign of good health?” Bulma challenged.

Vegeta glared at her.

“The thermometer won’t tell you anything useful,” Chichi said.

To Vegeta’s shock she pressed the back of her hand against his forehead. He jerked away from her.

“Goku and Gohan’s normal temperature always felt like a fever to me,” Chichi said to Bulma. “And you know how Goku was about doctors.”

“How could you miss it?” Bulma asked. “I tried to have him get a shot once...” she trailed off into giggles.

“What did Kakarrot do?” Vegeta asked curiously.

“Well, lets just say that if Cell had really wanted to scare Goku he shouldn’t have threatened to destroy the world, he should have found a white lab coat and a stethoscope and offered to give him a shot,” Bulma said. “Goku hated needles.”

Chichi looked wistful. “You should have seen him when I told him Gohan would have to get immunizations before we could enroll him in a public school. With the way he felt about shots there was no way he was going to let anyone inflict them on Gohan.” She smiled sadly. “That almost ended that idea right there, but I convinced him to come to the interview and that we’d deal with whether or not Gohan really needed immunizations later. Goku was so adamant about it... well I was planning on taking Gohan myself and not saying anything. It really would have been for Gohan’s own good.”

“Actually if you haven’t yet you might want to wait,” Bulma commented. “I’ve been whipping up some for Trunks that take his half-Saiyan physiology into account.”

“I haven’t,” Chichi said. “The interviewing board didn’t react well when Goku instant transmissioned out in the middle. They said a few things and I might have... lost my temper and punched a hole through the desk.” Chichi blushed.

“Mother!” Gohan exclaimed.

“Well to make a long story short we never made it to that bridge,” Chichi finished. “But considering Goku’s feelings about doctors, I’ve had to become fairly adept in the traditional methods to keep an eye on my boys’ health.”

“Could you take a look at Vegeta for me?” Bulma asked.

“Woman, I told you I'm not sick,” Vegeta insisted.

“Pretty please, for me? Because I worry about you? And if you let Chichi check you out I'll be less tempted to do something like sneaking knock-out drops into your food so I can haul you off to the infirmary that way,” Bulma plead in a sticky-sweet voice.

“Bulma! You will not ambush Vegeta in this house,” Bunny exclaimed. “It's his home, he should feel safe here.”

Vegeta shot Bulma a superior smirk behind her mother's back.

“Yes, your mother's quite right,” Dr. Briefs agreed. “However, I don't think there'd be a problem if you rigged the air system in the Gravity Room, after all, Vegeta did request that the room be programmed to attack him.”

Bulma stuck her tongue out at Vegeta then her expression turned serious. “I just want to know that you're okay,” she said.

Vegeta scowled and crossed his arms over his chest but he stopped leaning away from Chichi. Bulma nodded to her to let her know that was a consent.

Chichi briskly replaced her hand on Vegeta's forehead. “No fever,” she declared then felt his throat. “Would you relax? For goodness sakes, no one is trying to hurt you.”

Bulma gritted her teeth when she noticed look of incomprehension in Vegeta's eyes. “What do mean relax?” she asked, knowing that Vegeta wouldn't.

“He needs to lower his ki,” Chichi explained. “I'm trying to check for swollen lymph nodes but he's got his ki so high that his skin has about as much give to it as a rock.”

“Fine,” Vegeta snapped and marginally lowered his defenses.

Chichi rolled her eyes. “Gohan would you please demonstrate what I mean.”

“Sure Mom.” He turned to Vegeta. “You can't hold yourself ready for an attack while she's doing that. This is what she wants.” Gohan pulled his ki in until it wasn't doing anything to increase the durability of his body.

“This is stupid,” Vegeta declared.

“Please!” Bulma asked.

“Hn.”

“Thank you,” Chichi said sardonically. After several more test she declared, “He's fine.”

“I told you,” Vegeta said smugly but Bulma only looked more troubled.

“I still think you should come down to the infirmary so I can run some tests.”

“No.”

“But-”

“No.”

They glared at each other for the space of a few breaths. “Okay, I'll let it drop- for the moment,” Bulma conceded.

For several minutes everyone went back to their meals.

“Someone should represent Capsule Corps at the benefit tonight,” Dr Briefs commented.

“Oh no! Don't look at me,” Bulma protested. She shook her head and held up her hands in refusal.

“Bulma-chan, it's for a hospital and your surgical nano-bots are our most recent contribution to the medical field,” her father argued.

“So you're gonna make me suffer for it?” Bulma sniped.

Bunny shot a sly glance toward Vegeta. “You just don't like being hit on,” Bunny laughed.

“Not by gold-digging bastards,” Bulma grumbled. “And it always ends up on the front page of some miserable rag.”

“Oh yes, that's why you used to make Yamcha attend them with you even though the poor dear found them to be horribly stuffy.” Bunny sneaked another look at Vegeta. “You could always take Vegeta as your date; I'm sure all the other gentlemen would get the idea then.”

A small, distinctly evil smile tugged at Vegeta's lips as he considered options for dealing with anyone who didn't get the message that the woman belonged to him.

“Mother!” Bulma protested. She glanced nervously at Vegeta, her thoughts were running parallel to his but she didn't find them nearly as pleasurable. “I don't think Vegeta would want to come,” she said.

“Because the scar-faced moron disliked them?” Vegeta asked, amusement underlying his voice. “I can entertain myself.”

“And that's what scares me,” Bulma shot back.

“Ah... I promise I won't do any permanent damage,” Vegeta offered, still smiling evilly.

“Very funny Vegeta.”

“I'm sure it will be,” Vegeta replied.

“Then you'll both go,” Bunny concluded cheerfully.

 

* * *

 

“Oh damn. Not him,” Bulma swore as she and Vegeta entered the banquet hall.

“What's that buffoon doing?” Vegeta wondered.

“Calling the paparazzi down on us,” Bulma said. “You remember what he was like before the Cell Games?” She gestured to where Hercule Satan was holding court for the press. A small girl in a lacy dress with a dark scowl on her face stood beside Hercule, looking like she'd rather be anywhere else. “He's worse now,” Bulma said as Hercule picked up his daughter and posed for the cameras while he held her aloft with just one hand.

“Well, at least he's decent at holding the attention he draws,” Bulma sighed.

“The only thing he's good at is making noise,” Vegeta said in disgust. “So what do we do?”

“We sit, we eat, human proportions by the way, we listen to speeches, we mingle and we get seen,” Bulma said. “I told you it would be deadly dull.”

The night progressed as promised and Bulma was surprised to find Vegeta didn't show any overt signs of impatience, discomfort or boredom even after the speeches stretched into the second hour. When ever she'd brought Yamcha to similar events he ended up fussing over the discomfort of wearing a suit long before they arrived and pestering her about how much longer it was going to last within fifteen minutes of arriving.

Vegeta let the atmosphere of the formal banquet wash over him. It teased at his memory, which was a novel sensation given his memory's recent practice of violently usurping control of his mind. He closed his eyes and focused on the sounds of muted conversation and the light clinking of cutlery. His memory supplied a woman's warm laugh and a flash of sun reddened hair that was so rare among Saiyans.

_”Be still little one, it won't last too much longer.”_

_“All they do is talk, Mother.”_

_“This too is a battle you'll need to fight someday, my Vegeta. You should pay attention to how it's done.”_

_“Yes Mother,” the tiny boy sighed. “It takes longer than the fighting Nappa teaches.”_

_She laughed softly. “But it can be just as important for survival and success. See that one, there?” She indicated who she meant with a flick of her eyes. “He believes life owes him more than he has received.”_

_“So?”_

_“So he is your uncle and has spent his whole life positioning himself for a coup against your father. And if he should ever manage that the first thing he would do, my little Prince, would be to kill you. You are the one your father has chosen as his successor, that would make you a rallying point for your father's supporters. But we know him, by watching him tonight and in similar settings your father gathers hints as to who would support a coup.”_

_Vegeta cuddled closer to his mother's side. “Him?” he asked picking out another member of the Saiyan royal court. His mother smiled and began explaining that one's position, ambitions and uses. As the banquet wore on, Nappa, who was standing guard behind them took to adding a few comments about individual's fighting skills._

_Vegeta sensed a sudden tension in his mother's frame several seconds before the attack came. Then he was being lifted up and tossed behind Nappa's considerable bulk while his bodyguard blasted a projectile out of the air. His mother shrugged off Nappa's attempt to get her behind him as well and stood firm with two unsheathed knives in her hands. “Come, be civil about this,” she called. “We are at a formal affair, let's make a proper duel of it.”_

_“Milady would you-” Nappa began._

_“Your job is to protect my son, not me,” she reminded the hulking warrior tartly. “I think it's time I provided the court with a reminder of who I am.” Vegeta's mother glanced toward the King's other concubines. “Call your champion out, lest he look like a coward who can only strike from the shadows.”_

_“It seems Lady Nanban has decided to provide us with the evening's entertainment,” the king commented “As always there will be no reprisal for a duel, regardless of out come.”_

_After a small pause the would-be assassin joined the crown prince's mother in the center of the room. To Vegeta's eyes the assassin was a giant. His mother's slight frame made her look insignificant in comparison but her knives were steady. “So what's your complaint?” she asked_

_“You're a witch who has seduced our king,” the assassin declared. “You're not even a true Saiyan.”_

_Nanban rolled her eyes. “That tired old rumor? The one about one of my ancestors, no one can say which one, wasn't Saiyan-jin? That's all you can come up with? If that were actually true wouldn't it just make it worse that my son is so superior to all the other Palace brats?”_

_“More proof of your trickery,” the assassin roared._

_Vegeta watched with wonder as his mother's speed and grace made the huge assassin look like a shambling lumox. Her knives took small bits of him as she danced away from his powerful blows and then she stepped into him. He caught one of her wrists in a crushing grasp, but her free knife found it's target in the gap beneath his armored chest plate._

_“Is that little thing supposed to hurt me?” the assassin laughed._

_Nanban grinned fiercely and everyone in the room heard a muted explosion from the assassin's torso then he crumpled to the ground. Smoke rose from his wound rather than blood._

_“She channeled her ki through the blade to get under his armor,” Nappa told Vegeta approvingly. “Your mother is a sneaky one.”_

_Vegeta nodded, his eyes shining with awe as he watched her clean her blades on her fallen foe's clothes._

_The king applauded. “A brilliant display as always my dear,” he said._

_“Thank you my lord,” She replied as she sheathed her blades with a flourish. Nanban took her son back from Nappa and settled him on her lap. Vegeta reached up to touch the blood that was spattered across her cheeks like freckles._

Bulma noticed that Vegeta's eyes were distant but the emptiness that she was learning to dread wasn't present. “What are you thinking about?” she asked.

“The last formal banquet I attended.” Vegeta replied. “It was a few months before Frieza took me. My mother killed an assassin before dessert was served.”

“Hopefully this one won't be that exciting,” Bulma said.

“A pity,” Vegeta replied.

“Oh you!” Bulma huffed. “Behave. I'm going to go mingle a bit. Then we'll be free to get the hell out of here.”

Vegeta followed Bulma as she worked her way through the crowd.

“-The project is going very well, thank you. I'll be making a formal announcement in a few weeks.-”

“-How is your family?-”

“Vegeta, Elenore. Elenore, Vegeta. We went to school together.”

“Do you think I care?”

“Still in your bad boy phase Bulma? I thought you got over that after Yamcha.”

“Moving on,” Bulma said as she steered Vegeta away from her old classmate. “You could try being polite Vegeta.”

“Why would I do that?”

“I don't know, novelties' sake?”

Vegeta gave a soft snort of amusement. “Maybe, someday. Which of Kakarrot's friends is most likely to drop dead if shocked?”

As soon as they stepped outside the paparazzi descended. “Brief-san! Briefs-san!”

“Ugh, tabloids,” Bulma groaned

“Is he your baby's father?”

“Have you set a date?”

“Aren't you missing out on Mr. Satan posing?” Bulma asked irritably.

“Brief-san, is there something you're hiding? Why the mystery about your escort?”

Bulma paled, she was almost certain that there was no surviving footage of Vegeta's original visit to the planet, but the reaction if that got out worried her.

“Your mother wanted me to come to see that no one harassed you,” Vegeta said. He smiled and to the reporters it looked like a baring of fangs. “I'll catch up later.”

Bulma glanced at the tabloid reporters then at Vegeta. “Have fun but don't kill anyone.”

As Bulma walked away one of the reporters went to follow her. Vegeta caught him be the collar and dragged him back. “She said no killing. I don't mind, there's no pain after you're dead.”

They were in public. They were in a pack. The World's Champ, defeater of Cell was near by and he liked them, even Vegeta's aura of menace couldn't intimidate them here.

“What's your relationship with Bulma Briefs?”

“Where are you from?”

“What are you hiding?”

“What's your last name?”

Vegeta scowled darkly as camera bulbs flashed in his face and suicidally stupid humans jostled each other for the opportunity to annoy him. “I find your kind sulking around Capsule Corp. You invade my privacy and act as if you're entitled to answers for every inane question that spills out of your mouth. You print slanderous things that upset the woman... There is a precedent among your people of mounting the heads of offenders on pikes to discourage others of their ilk,” Vegeta smiled as if enjoying the idea of collecting a few heads. “The woman says it would attract flies. She thinks I should take part in your rituals but when I find one that seems useful she protests. Women.” As he spoke Vegeta pushed his battle aura over them and the things that had bolstered their courage before were no less true but they were much less reassuring.

Vegeta sharply spiked his ki and dozens of cameras and recording devices exploded around him. Even though none of the reporters could explain it they all knew it was Vegeta's doing and the suddenness of the explosions coming on top of the promise of death Vegeta projected was enough to send them scurrying for cover. Vegeta watched them in amusement then he noticed the little girl they'd seen with Hercule earlier. There was a look of satisfaction on her face as Vegeta terrorized the tabloid reporters and she was taking notes.

Vegeta sensed Bulma's ki spike in anger and forgot the girl.

Bulma had been moving away from the reporters who'd swarmed around her and Vegeta as they left the sanctuary of the banquet hall looking for a place to de-capsulize her car when she ran across one of Hercule Satan's impromptu press conferences.

Hercule noticed her and exclaimed “Hey, give me some space,” to the reporters. “I'll be back later for more pictures.”

Obligingly the reporters made a show of retreating while Mr. Satan walked up to Bulma. “You're Bulma Briefs ain't you?”

Bulma stared at him frostily.

Hercule grinned confidently. “I hear you like fighters. So I was thinking maybe you'd like to hook up with the best. I mean I'm the World's Champ and you're quite a babe for a science nerd.”

Bulma glared at him in outrage. “Son Goku was a close friend of mine,” she hissed.

“Who?” Hercule asked and Bulma realized that the imbecile had talked himself into believing his own press.

When Vegeta appeared beside her Bulma smiled and wrapped an arm around his waist. “Sorry Satan, I'm only impressed by the real thing. Not by lying frauds with puffed up opinions of themselves. You didn't beat Cell.”

Hercule's face turned pasty at the realization that this woman somehow knew the truth. Then Hercule took a closer look at Vegeta and recognized him as one of the fighters from the Cell Games. The champ's eyes bugged out and his jaw dropped. “Y-yo-you're-” he stammered.

Vegeta sneered at him and pulled Bulma closer possessively.

“Come on Vegeta, let's go home,” Bulma said. “The hot air around here is starting to bother me.”

The two of them walked away leaving Hercule speechless in their wake.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nanban translates to red pepper. I got the idea for her appearance from the coloring mistake in the anime where Vegeta has reddish hair in his first appearance. So in this story instead of being a mistake, it's an effect lots of time in the sun. Once he gets to Earth Vegeta spends the majority of his in the GR rather than killing off populations on various alien worlds so he doesn't get enough sun to make the red come to the surface. As for the rumor, I just meant it as people coming up with something, anything in an attempt to discredit Nanban and her son since Vegeta's in line to inherit the throne and is the primary targets for all other contenders.
> 
> In my stories rather than having the kingship inherited by the oldest child on Vegeta-sai I've been having it be somewhat merit based but with the assumption that since one of Vegeta's ancestors became a Super Saiyan that his blood line is more likely than any other to produce another Super Saiyan. (Which would make Brolly a huge threat to the ruling family and explain why King Vegeta wanted him killed. If another bloodline produced a Super Saiyan, with a rulership that was already partially merit based it wouldn't be a very big step to decide that Brolly should be the next king rather than Vegeta).


	8. A Day with Trouble

“Oh my, what a cute picture of Trunks-chan,” Bunny declared as she picked up her paper at breakfast.

Dr. Briefs leaned over her shoulder to see for himself. He adjusted his glasses and took a second look at the headline to make sure he’d read it correctly. “Well, some people certainly know how to take two and two and come up with six and a half,” he said.

“Let me see that,” Bulma exclaimed and snatched the paper away from her mother. She took one look then groaned and let her forehead bang against the table.

“Mama sad?” Trunks asked worriedly. He offered her a messy handful of chocolaty cereal that he’d been about to stuff in his mouth as a consolation gift. Bulma smiled weakly and declined.

“It can’t be that bad,” Chichi said as she took the paper. “Oh that is just disgusting,” she exclaimed a moment later. “Bunny-san why do you read trash like this?”

“I think it’s funny to see what they come up with,” Bunny replied.

Gohan read over his mother’s shoulder. He patted Trunks on the head sympathetically. “It’s okay Trunks-chan, we know it’s not true and that’s all that matters, right Bulma-san?”

“Give me that thing,” Vegeta demanded.

On the front page of the tabloid was a picture from the banquet. It captured Hercule Satan staring at Bulma in shock while she glared angrily at him and Vegeta stood proprietorial near her watching Satan with a look of disdain. “Capsule Corp Heiress has heated words for the Champ.” In the lower corner was an inset picture which showed Trunks wrestling a dog four times his size to the ground. “Could super-strong tyke be the Champ’s?”

“Now they’re trying to tick me off,” Vegeta said.

He flipped to the article and scanned through it. “When questioned the normally gregarious Mr. Satan only answered ‘No comment’.”

“Him too,” Vegeta added. He pushed his chair back and stalked toward the door.

Gohan leapt up to go after Vegeta but Bulma put a hand on his arm. “Let him go. He’s not going to kill anyone, just terrorize them a little - which they deserve for printing rubbish like that! As if I’d ever have anything to do with that miserable fraud!”

“If you’re sure,” Gohan wavered.

“I’m sure,” Bulma said.

 

* * *

 

Vegeta decided he’d discuss matters with Satan first. The imbecile could be useful in clarifying that he had absolutely no claim on Trunks for the other idiots. Of course Vegeta would need to find a different paper to print the retraction, the one that had ran the initial story wasn’t going to be in business anymore after he finished with them.

Vegeta landed on the front step of the Satan mansion. With a loud crash he reduced the door to kindling then stalked inside.

A butler intercepted him. “If you’re here to challenge the Champ you’ll have to make an appointment,” he declared as he coolly looked down his nose at Vegeta.

Vegeta grabbed the man by the throat and yanked him down to eye level. “Where is the weakling?” he demanded.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a small form fling itself over the balustrade at him. “Let him go!” a high pitched voice ordered sternly as its owner launched a double legged kick at Vegeta’s side.

He used his free hand to grab his attacker by the ankle and was about to smash her into the wall behind him when the impression of pig-tails and a face still rounded by lingering baby-fat registered. It was the girl from the banquet, Satan’s daughter. Vegeta held her up by the ankle and scowled at her. “Do you want to die you little idiot?” he asked. He had enough nightmares about murdered children already, he didn’t need one more.

The girl, still hanging upside down, announced, “I’m not scared of you, ya big bully!” And punched Vegeta in the gut. “Ow!!!” She howled and brought her hand to her mouth to suck on her bruised knuckles.

Vegeta laughed at her. “Serves you right brat. Now where’s your idiot father?”Seeing the girl as the better source of information, Vegeta released the butler. The man retreated, scrabbling his way backwards across the marble floor. The echo of his rapidly retreating footsteps lingered in the air after the man himself had fled.

“You can’t talk about my dad like that! He saved the world from Cell!” the girl declared indignantly.

“I can say anything I like about that lying weakling,” Vegeta replied. “And what are you going to do about it?” He lifted her a tad higher to emphasize her helplessness.

“My dad’ll make you take that back!” The girl crossed her arms and scowled at Vegeta rather than looking intimidated.

“It would amuse me to see him try,” Vegeta smirked.

The Satans’ butler returned with a dozen burly security guards. “Release Videl-san this instant!” he ordered as the guards ran to attack Vegeta.

Vegeta swivelled so that he was between Videl and the on-coming guards. He punched the fastest of them back into the next three, scattering them like bowling pins.

Videl noticed her father’s picture on the paper tucked beneath Vegeta’s arm and snatched it away to read the story.

Vegeta swept the legs out from under the next set of guards. Then he grabbed another and threw him up to dangle from the chandelier, the gentle chiming provided an incongruent accompaniment to the sounds of flesh violently meeting floor and walls. Vegeta used his last attacker as a projectiles to take out the butler who’d been about to call for reinforcements.

“They’re gonna take that back!” Videl exclaimed as she finished the article. “My dad’s not that kind of a guy!”

Vegeta dropped Videl head first on a convenient couch. “What’s your problem with that trash?” he demanded as she righted herself.

“My dad wouldn’t have a kid and ignore him. He’s not like that jerk Karoni. He didn’t even want to admit Sharpie was his so Dad made him go away. I’m gonna make those lousy tabloids take that back!”

Vegeta considered the girl, she was a brat but still less annoying than the pompous windbag who’d sired her. She could probably do a better job of explaining that Satan had nothing to do with Trunks as well. He slung Videl over his shoulder and headed toward the tabloid offices.

“You better put me down!” Videl screamed. She kicked and flailed for all she was worth. “My dad’ll make you sorry if you kidnap me!”

“Shut up!” Vegeta ordered. “I’m not kidnaping you. We are going to set the facts straight.”

Videl calmed, she thought about it for a few seconds. “Okay, let’s go.”

“I didn’t ask your permission.”

“Mister! I can walk myself you know,” Videl hinted a few seconds later.

“Hn,” Vegeta snorted and leapt into the sky.

“Oh wow! You know the flying trick!” Videl exclaimed. “Dad says it’s a trick and it’s cheating to use it in a fight but I think it’d be really cool to be able to fly. Would you teach me Mister?”

“No,” Vegeta stated.

“Why not Mister?”

“Because I don’t waste my time on weakling human brats,” Vegeta stated.

“You’re not very nice Mister.”

“I try.”

“Well you should try harder!”

“I try not to be nice,” Vegeta clarified.

Videl thought about that for a few minutes then said. “You’re that kid’s dad right? You wouldn’t be all mad if you weren’t.”

Vegeta ignored her.

A few minutes later Videl moaned “Oooh, I shouldn’t have had that milkshake,” as she watched the city blur by beneath her. Being upside down with Vegeta’s shoulder pressing into her gut wasn’t doing wonders for her equilibrium either. “Mister, you really wanna put me down. I’m gonna...”

Vegeta held Videl at arms length while the milkshake she’d consumed prior to their flight came back up then quickly landed and set her on the pavement. “We will walk the rest of the way,” he declared. “And you’d better not complain about being tired.”

“Oh gross, I can still taste it,” Videl complained. When Vegeta didn’t respond she went on to describe, at length and in detail, the nasty aftereffects of throwing up when you weren’t near a toothbrush and didn’t have anything to wash the taste out with. Vegeta gave in and bought her a soda.

“Thanks Mister, maybe you’re not so bad after all.”

“Don’t count on it,” Vegeta muttered.

“I saw you at the banquet,” Videl informed Vegeta as she sipped at her soda while they walked. “It was funny when you scared those pests. My dad just encourages them.” Videl rolled her eyes eloquently expressing her opinion of reporters and her father’s reaction to them.

“Did you see that dress my dad made me wear?” Videl continued a short while later when Vegeta didn’t say anything to fill the silence between them. “Awful huh? All those ruffles and junk. I don’t like dresses at all but he said I had to wear it and that I had to go.”

“Can’t you walk any faster?” Vegeta snapped.

“I’m drinking!” Videl objected. “If I really had to wear a dress, I’d pick one like your girlfriend’s, simple, no ruffles, but less tight... So it wouldn’t get in the way of running or fighting.”

Vegeta watched the level of soda in Videl’s glass slowly drop. He found himself hoping that the endless yammering was a girl thing rather than a characteristic of Videl’s age group. Gohan could be quiet but then Gohan was hardly representative. Kakarrot’s spawn had been fighting for his life and his planet since he’d been four. His childhood fell closer to Vegeta’s end of the spectrum than to the norm and Vegeta had already decided that Trunks wouldn’t have the fate of his planet resting on his shoulders while he was still a child, not if Vegeta could help it.

“I’m Videl by the way.” The girl held out her hand and waited.

Vegeta didn’t reciprocate.

Videl sighed. “Now you’re supposed to shake my hand and tell me what your name is.”

“Do you think I care?” Vegeta asked.

“Humph!” Videl sniffed. Several minutes later she scowled suspiciously at him. “Why aren’t you married to the kid’s mom? You’re not some kind of deadbeat are you?”

“No, and his name is Trunks,” Vegeta informed her.

“Trunks Briefs? Poor kid,” Videl said.

“Don’t blame me, I had nothing to do with choosing it,” Vegeta said.

“You are a deadbeat!” Videl accused.

“Brat, I could still rethink my resolve about not killing brats.”

“You’re a liar Mister,” Videl stated fearlessly.

“Keep annoying me and you’ll find out,” Vegeta threatened.

And then they were at the first tabloid office. Vegeta strode in, pushed past the receptionist and picked up the intercom mike. “I didn’t like what you wrote about Bulma and Trunks Briefs,” he stated. “And I’ve warned you before. Now you should run, that is if you want to survive when I destroy this building.” He turned around and blew out the front wall of the office with a small ki blast. “You have ten seconds to vacate the premise.”

“Mister! That’s destruction of private property! That’s wrong!” Videl shouted.

Vegeta tossed her over his shoulder again and flew up to hover over the building. He watched the people scurry around like ants after their hill had been kicked over. When he didn’t sense anymore ki’s in the building he shouted “Gallic Gun!” And the spot were the tabloid office had stood became a gaping crater.

“You can’t do stuff like that!” Videl protested, she pounded on Vegeta’s back angrily. “It’s bad! Even if they are tabloids!”

Vegeta flew to another newspaper office. He slammed the offending paper down on the desk being careful only to dent the desk rather than collapse it. “The woman is mine. The brat is mine. I want this crap corrected and if I ever see anything implying otherwise again I’ll do to whoever printed it what I did to the morons who printed this,” he roared.

One of the reporters cautiously crept close. “Videl-san, why are you here?” he asked. ‘With this lunatic,’ was implied by his voice but he had more sense than to say it.

“He sort-of kidnaped me,” Videl declared then squirmed around so that Vegeta could see her pull down one eye-lid and stick her tongue out at him. “But he’s telling the truth. I’m the only kid my dad has. Beside look at this guy and look at the kid, their eyes are exactly the same, except for the color. That other paper shouldn’t have been printing nasty rumors... but that still doesn’t make what he did right!”

“Should we be anticipating a wedding announcement for you and Bulma?” the reporter asked Vegeta daringly.

“You really should marry her,” Videl interjected. “It’s like doing this proactively.”

“You are going to explain that Satan has no connection to Trunks or Bulma,” Vegeta instructed.

“If you married her you’d be less likely to end up blowing up building over someone thinking that she’s with someone else,” Videl continued as Vegeta left the office.

“Not much of an incentive brat.”

“No matter how much you say something is wrong once it gets in the papers some people will believe it,” Videl said knowingly.

“And marriage would prevent this nonsense?” Vegeta asked. He put Videl on her feet so that he could talk to her properly.

“It’d help,” Videl said. Sensing victory she added. “You’re gonna need to get her a ring.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s how its done! You buy her a ring, ask her to marry you, she wears the ring and everybody knows she’s married so it’s a no-no to hit on her,” Videl explained. “No ring is the first thing my Dad looks for when he goes looking for a new girlfriend. I wish he’d remember to look for brains somewhere in the process.”

Vegeta looked interested. “Where does one find a ring?”

“I’ll take you,” Videl volunteered. “I mean it’s doing the city a service. Let’s go.”

Vegeta gestured for her to lead the way.

At the jewelry store Videl quickly narrowed down the selection, “Tacky. Gaudy. Looks like something my dad’s stupid girlfriends would like...” Eventually Videl settled on six rings her mother might have liked for Vegeta to choose from. That was when the armed robber showed up.

Vegeta stood in front of the rings he and Videl and narrowed their choice down to and crossed his arms. The robber could have the rest of the store for all Vegeta cared but he wasn’t going to waste time going through this process again.

“Do something!” Videl hissed.

Vegeta shrugged. “As long as he doesn’t bother me I don’t care what he does.”

“You’re almost as strong as my dad, you could stop him!” Videl cried in frustration and confusion.

“Are you completely delusional girl? Vegeta snapped. “I could break that witless braggart in half without-“

Videl wasn’t listening, she was too busy doing something about the robber herself.

Vegeta saw the robber’s gun swing around to point at Videl, a picture of the life fading from eyes the same color as his son’s flashed through his mind.

Videl heard the gun fire and it hit her that she’d done a very stupid thing but there was no pain. Hesitantly she opened one eye and peeked out. She found herself staring at the back of Vegeta’s hand. His fingers opened and two flattened bullets fell to the floor.

Vegeta didn’t say anything. The gun barked four more times as Vegeta slowly, deliberately stalked across the room. The robber kept pulling the trigger long after his bullets were spent, he kept firing until Vegeta’s hand closed over his, the stink of ammonia filled the air. Vegeta squeezed slowly as the gunmetal squished between his fingers like sillyputty. The robber screamed as the bones in his hand shattered and ripped through his flesh before being reduced to sand by the pressure.

Vegeta left the man curled up in a whimpering ball on the floor. He walked back to the case and selected a ring. “I want this one,” he said.

“W-what size?” the salesman stammered. The man was visibly fighting the urge to gag at the scent of blood and piss coming from the would-be thief.

“Do you have samples?” Vegeta asked. The man nodded. “Which finger does it go on?” Vegeta asked Videl.

She was staring at the robber in shock.

“A wedding band?” the salesman confirmed. “The third finger,” he said as he pointed to the appropriate digit.

Vegeta picked out one of the sample bands and slid it between his fingers.

Sometimes when they lay together Bulma liked to twine her fingers with his. Vegeta had to be aware of just how much he could close his hand before doing her harm. It took much less effort for him to crush a frail human hand than to hold one.

The would-be robber lay curled up in fetal ball around his mangled hand and continued to whimper until Videl employed a sleeper hold and mercifully knocked him unconscious. The rest of the customers pressed themselves against the walls of the store in an attempt to put more space between themselves and Vegeta.

“What luck,” the salesman said nervously. “The display piece is the proper size. P-please take it with our compliments for stopping the robbery.” And because ringing up the sale would keep Vegeta in the store for a few seconds longer than absolutely necessary.

Vegeta sneered at the man, at all of the them really. ‘Cowardly fools, the lot of them.’ He’d done nothing to suggest that he was indiscriminately violent. Kakarrot would have done something innocuous to reassure them that he meant no harm, to make them feel comfortable and unafraid around him. He would have smiled or chuckled with embarrassment or cluelessly scratched his head. Kakarrot wouldn’t have left the robber crippled, he might have scolded the man mildly after taking the gun away. Vegeta wasn’t Kakarrot. ‘If he wanted mercy he should have ran or surrendered when I caught the first bullet,’ Vegeta thought.

The police and Mr. Satan pulled up to the front of the mall in a cacophony of squealing tires and sirens as Vegeta left the mall with Videl still tagging along behind him. She had made it her self-appointed duty to minimize the damage Vegeta did by running interference between him and the city’s civilian population.

“Sweetpea!” Hercule cried when he saw his daughter. He ran up and snatched her away from Vegeta. “He didn’t hurt you did he?” Hercule demanded. Then without bothering to hear her answer he pushed Videl behind him and turned to face Vegeta.

“You are going to fight me?” Vegeta asked with sarcastic disbelief. “Here? Knowing who I am?”

“Nobody hurts my little girl!” Hercule shouted.

Vegeta could see that Hercule wasn’t thinking about his reputation, his pride or even his survival. And Vegeta understood perfectly, none of that mattered, not with his child’s safety on the line.

“Dad! Stop it! He didn’t hurt me!” Videl exclaimed urgently.

Vegeta didn’t care. He just wanted to be away from there. Away from the proof that his reaction to Trunk’s death during the Cell Games was the normal, natural way for a parent to react when their child was harmed. Before anyone could blink he was gone.

 


	9. Admissions

Vegeta viciously twisted the gravity knob to the max then keyed the GR to attack hm full out. In that sort of gravity something as simple as a misstep could break his bones, could even kill him if his luck was bad enough. He didn’t care. His mind had been controlled when his life had been in constant danger. It was only now when his body was safe that his mind attacked him. He wanted the cold clarity of fighting for survival back.

The gravity was too much for the woman’s sparring ‘bots. As soon as he activate them they crashed to the floor with a series of dull crunches as their internal components collapsed on themselves. He had to make do with the wall lasers. It was unsatisfying, he wanted something to hit.

Waves of unreasoning rage swept over him. He knew it was Hercule Satan’s determination to protect his daughter, regardless of the odds, that had triggered his fury but he also knew he wasn’t angry at Satan. He knew he would have done the same for Trunks, knew it now, after he’d failed and simply watched Cell kill his son before doing anything. Never again.

Vegeta failed to dodge one of the lasers. It made his muscles spasm and he fell. His weight, amplified by seven hundred and fifty times Earth’s gravity, came down on one knee and the joint shattered.

And it was Frieza and he was four-years-old again. And there was no point in fighting back because he couldn’t win and it only made it worse, whether his efforts to fight back amused Frieza or angered him it only made it worse. Nappa stood by and let it happen. His father had given him to that monster and no one would protect him from his fate.

Why wouldn’t anyone save him? He couldn’t win against Frieza. He was a child. What had he done that he wasn’t worth protecting anymore?

Rationally the adult Vegeta knew his father had the fate their entire race to weight in the balance not just the fate of one small boy, but his visceral reactions swept reason away. He felt betrayed. He felt ashamed that he hadn’t been strong enough to defend himself. And guilt, so much guilt. His father’s voice blended and overlapped with Frieza’s as they both told him that the fate of his people depended on him. Frieza laughing, twisting the knife as they floated in the debris field that had been Vegeta-sai. “You were really quite the disappointment my little Prince.” He was terrified, powerless.

He had no hope of stopping the blows raining down on him and no one thought he was worth helping.

 

* * *

 

“Vegeta!” Bulma screamed as she pounded on the view port into the GR, her hands bruised at the force of the impacts but she didn’t feel it.

She could see him, he was less than five feet away from her, but she couldn’t reach him. Even as she over-rode the door lock she knew it wouldn’t do any good. Something had broken in the machine and the gravity generator wasn’t cutting out the way it was supposed to when the over-ride was used. The gravity in the room was so intense that Bulma could feel it’s pull even outside of the GR. She knew that the gravity Vegeta normally trained at would kill her in a heartbeat. One step into that room and she’d be crushed. One step forward and she’d die, Vegeta was four steps away.

Bulma watched Vegeta try to stand. Watched his leg collapse beneath him, watched him try to catch himself with his hands only to have his arms snap under the strain and all the while he was still being bombarded with lasers. He looked up and looked through her. He’d bitten through his lower lip, Bulma knew he was fighting not to scream.

Bulma screamed for him. The Gravity Room had been built to withstand damage, it wasn’t easy to disable even for it’s creator. She’d spent years improving it’s robustness, trying to make it so Vegeta couldn’t break it. She’d never dreamed that a day would come when it got the better of him.

“Snap out of it Vegeta! Get out of there! The door’s open, it’s four steps! Please Vegeta!”

When Gohan heard Bulma screaming he didn’t hesitate. He dove past Bulma as he ascended to Super Saiyan two and dragged Vegeta out of the GR.

“Vegeta?” Bulma pled as she cradled his face in her hands.

Vegeta coughed up blood, he would have fallen except for Gohan’s support. His gaze cleared a little, he wasn’t totally there anymore, even if his eyes still showed more of the four-year-old who’d suddenly found himself responsible for the fate of his people and of the ten-year-old who hadn’t been able to save anyone than of the adult who’d almost convinced himself that he didn’t care about any of that. “You came?” There was no certainty in Vegeta’s voice.

Bulma nodded. She leaned her forehead against Vegeta’s “Always.”

Vegeta’s eyes rolled back and he passed out.

 

* * *

 

“Welcome back.”

“Hn,” Vegeta groaned and twisted his head away from the light. The sterile smell of the room had his lips curling back in disgust. He felt a warm weight against his arm and reached across his body to tangle his fingers in Bulma’s hair.

“We gave you a senzu bean,” Dr. Briefs said as he polished his glasses. “Your ki dropped low enough for the gravity to damage your organs. Of course Bulma also gave you something to keep you under long enough for her to run every test in the book on you. It was never physical was it?”

Vegeta kept stroking the silky strands of Bulma’s hair and ignored her father.

“Hey,” Bulma said with a sleepy smile as she woke. “You’re looking better. We haven’t figured out what’s wrong yet, but don’t worry, we will.”

“Bulma,” Dr. Briefs said quietly. “Vegeta has told us repeatedly that he isn’t ill. I think it’s time we listened. It’s not physical is it, Vegeta?”

Bulma flinched. Vegeta’s face was carefully blank as he watched Dr. Briefs.

“I did some research after what I’d heard about your background,” the older man continued. He turned to study Vegeta closely. “It’s memories isn’t it? Memories that over-power the present. We call them flashbacks.”

“How do I get rid of them?” Vegeta asked.

Dr. Briefs glanced away for a moment. “There’s no senzu bean or regeneration tank for this sort of problem,” he cautioned. “It will take time. I believe you have to find a way to sort through and come to terms with those memories that are causing you problems.”

Vegeta considered the older man carefully. In the years that he’d known the Briefs they’d been welcoming to him, strangely fearless but accepting. “Before, I could control my thoughts, if I had allowed the sort of lapses I’ve been experiencing then I would have died. I still train but there is no urgency to it. There is no imminent threat and that is making me insane.”

“Perhaps your subconscious recognizes that you’re safe and thus chooses now as the time to deal with this before the next threat arises,” Dr. Briefs suggested. “I’m afraid that you would have had to deal with your past at some point.”

“I think it’s all Kakarrot’s fault,” Vegeta replied irritably. “It was telling that idiot what Frieza had done that started this.”

“I’d suggest talking with a psychiatrist, a mental health expert-“

Vegeta made a dismissive noise.

“-but I suspect that wouldn’t appeal to you,” Dr. Briefs continued, unperturbed. “You can always talk to Bulma, Bunny or I, it might help you sort through the memories.”

Vegeta frowned at the thought of telling Bulma about the things in his past that bothered even him, but he couldn’t keep losing himself in the past. “Maybe,” he said as he left the infirmary.

After Vegeta had left Dr. Briefs said “It’s almost a relief to know he’s reacting like this.”

“Dad!” Bulma exclaimed in outrage.

“Daughter, from what little I know of his past I’d be afraid for you and Trunks if it hadn’t traumatized him, not that I’d ever use that particular word in his hearing.”

 

* * *

 

After leaving the infirmary Vegeta headed toward the GR. As he approached the stand-alone building a small, but surprisingly determined weight attacked itself to his leg. “No Dada! Bad place! Bad place!” Trunks shouted as he did his best to impede his father’s progress.

Vegeta picked Trunks up by his collar and set him off to one side.

Trunks immediately latched on to his father’s leg again. “Bad place!!!” he shouted with a fearful glance over his shoulder at the GR.

Vegeta stared down at the agitated child in confusion.

A few moments later Bunny appeared, chasing after her way-ward grandson. When she tried to pry Trunks off of his father the small boy shoved her away with enough force to knock the unprepared woman off her feet.

Vegeta caught Bunny’s hand as she fell backwards and kept her from hitting the ground. Then he picked up Trunks again and held the boy at eye level. “Brat, you don’t strike your grandparents or your mother, understand?”

“Bad place! No Dada! No bad place!” Trunks screamed.

“Oh!” Bunny exclaimed as she put a hand to her mouth. “Trunks saw Gohan pull you out of the GR the other day,” she explained. “He’s worried about you.”

Trunks began crying in frustration at his inability to make his concerns understood and appreciated. Vegeta stared at the boy, he’d come to realize that it would hurt him if Bulma or Trunks were harmed, but it still seemed alien to him when he was faced with evidenced that there were people who worried about him being hurt. Four years of life at Capsule Corp wasn’t anywhere near enough to counter decades under Frieza’s rule. Vegeta had no idea what he was supposed to do with a child who was in tears because he was afraid that Vegeta would come to harm.

Vegeta considered telling Trunks that he didn’t plan to train at the moment, but what point would it serve? He would resume training shortly and he wasn’t going to put up with Trunks making a scene every time he entered the GR. Awkwardly Vegeta handed the sobbing baby to Bunny, this time Trunks let her hold him and offer comfort as he helplessly watched his father walked toward the place that had hurt him so badly just a few days before.

The door to the GR offered Vegeta fresh proof that his well-being mattered to his family; there was a posted on the door that read “Out of Order, and don’t bother asking about repairs until I’ve figured out better safety overrides.” It was written in Bulma’s clear, unornamented hand. Vegeta frowned uncertainly at the sign, he didn’t appreciate having restrictions placed on him, but somehow he couldn’t quite find the energy to be annoyed with Bulma for worrying about him.

He went to the cubby-hole beneath the stairs where he habitually emptied his pockets before entering the GR, possessions just couldn’t stand up to the gravity, and retrieved the ring and the other things he’d been carrying with him when he’d entered the chamber several days earlier.

When he got back to the room he had been occupying at Capsule Corp and found his things missing he decided he might be seriously annoyed with the woman after all. “Woman!” he shouted. “Where are my things?”

Bulma blanched as she came running, she had his things moved to her room the morning before everything had gone crazy and had forgotten completely. “I moved them into my room, you sleep there more often than not anyway,” she said.

Vegeta examined her closely. Bulma’s tone was deliberately casual. She seemed to be trying to imply that this was a small thing, just a logical next measure. But her frame was tensed and she wouldn’t meet his eyes, giving lie to her facade of nonchalance. This meant something to her.

“So, I’ll be sleeping in your room all the time now?” Vegeta asked cautiously.

“Saves the maid making up a bed that barely ever gets used,” Bulma replied.

‘Never gets used,’ Vegeta thought to himself, since he still tended to sleep sitting in a chair if he wasn’t with Bulma.

Vegeta walked to Bulma’s room, she trailed behind. He glanced around the room. Bulma realized that she’d been in high school the last time she’d over-hauled the color scheme, lavender played a prominent roll, so did frilly things. “I’m planning on redecorating,” she said quickly.

“Hn.” Vegeta grunted.

“What are those?” Vegeta asked pointing to Bulma’s stuffed animal collection.

“Oh no, they stay,” Bulma said.

“Did I say get rid of them?” Vegeta replied. “I want to know what they are.”

Bulma blushed. “They’re stuffed animals; soft, fuzzy, cute representations of the Earth’s creatures.”

“What are they for?”

“Well, I just have them around for decoration,” Bulma said as her eyes slid away from Vegeta’s.

“That one looks worn,” Vegeta said gesturing to a largish white lion that was distinctly threadbare revealing the hole in Bulma’s story.

Bulma snatched up the lion and hugged it to her, the faint scent of stuffing disintegrating into dust filled her nose. “I’ve had Albii for a long time.”

“It has a name?” Vegeta asked derisively.

Bulma stuck her tongue out at him. “I’ll have you know Albii is one of the best nightmare preventers around,” she declared.

“What do you have to have nightmares over?” Vegeta’s tone was flat. It left Bulma the option of interpreting his question as more derision or actual inquiry.

Bulma hesitated. They were asking Vegeta to talk about his past, about things he was obviously loath to share. Even if it was for his own good it wasn’t easy for him. She’d never told anyone about her nightmare, maybe it was only fair that she trust Vegeta with it.

She hugged Albii tighter and stared toward the window. “Goku,” she said softly.

Vegeta resisted the temptation to demand that she repeat herself.

“I was this crazy, spoilt little brat running around the country-side looking for a wish,” Bulma continued. “When I met Goku calling him a country-bumpkin would have been an understatement. He was this naive kid who didn’t even know what a girl was but his grandpa had told him to be nice to them if he ever met one. And just like that I’ve got a protector on my quest. We ran into bandits, monsters and wild animals, even this nasty little would-be emperor and his henchmen and I didn’t have to be scared because Goku was there. Most everything we ran across turned out to be pretty harmless really. The monster was just Oolong. The bandit was Yamcha and he fainted when he saw girls back then. The fearsome Ox-King was an old friend and Goku’s Grandpa and so on. All the dangers we ran across were like the thrills in a haunted house, they get your heart pumping but they’re not real, or at least they weren’t any match for Goku.” Bulma paused.

“Then Goku looked at the moon.”

Vegeta didn’t need any further explanation as to what had happened. He was actually surprised Bulma had survived an encounter with an Oozaru Saiyan. He didn’t wonder about Bulma’s decision to have Trunks’ tail removed as soon as the boy was born any more either.

“So I’m living here now?” Vegeta said.

“Yeah, if you want to,” Bulma replied. “If it bothers you I’ll have your stuff put back. I should have asked first.”

“It’s agreeable.”

Bulma abandoned the stuffed lion to hug Vegeta briefly. “I’m glad,” she said.

It seemed like as good a time as any. “Here,” Vegeta said gruffly as he shoved the small jewelry box in Bulma’s direction.

Bulma stared at the box in Vegeta’s hand then blinked a few times, the box was still there. Hesitantly, not quite believing her senses, Bulma took the box and opened it. “Vegeta, don’t take this the wrong way,” she said cautiously. “But do you have any idea of what giving me this means? I want to be absolutely sure that I’m not misunderstanding you right now.”

“It means you belong to me,” Vegeta stated.

Bulma rolled her eyes. “In that case I’m getting you one too, just so you know it’s reciprocal.” She bit her lip nervously. “It means forever Vegeta. That you want us to stay together, like we are now, for the rest of our lives. We’ve never really- Our whole relationship so far has been just day to day. Do you... Do your really want to stay with Trunks and I?”

“I wouldn’t have come back here if I didn’t,” Vegeta stated. “Satan’s brat should have mentioned the forever part when she was trying to sell me on the idea; it’s a better incentive than the not having to blow-up tabloid offices thing.”

A startled burst of laughter escaped Bulma, then she threw herself in Vegeta’s arms. “Yes, Vegeta I’ll marry you!” she exclaimed.

Vegeta frowned a little as he sorted through her response. “What? There’s more to it than giving you the ring?”

Bulma snuggled against him. “Yep, you gave me the ring, you can’t get out of it now. Don’t worry, I’ll keep the ceremony simple, just the Z-Fighters and family.”

“Hn,” Vegeta sniffed.

“It’ll have to be short, you know how long Trunks can stand being in a room with us before he decides he absolutely has to be the center of our attention. And we should wait until after Chichi’s had the baby. Having a wedding this close to her due date would be asking for her to go into labor in the middle of it,” Bulma decided. Then she glanced at Vegeta. “Unless, is there a Saiyan ceremony you want to do?”

“I thought I’d taken care of it when I gave you the ring,” Vegeta pointed out.

“Oh, right. I promise, the absolute minium to keep Mom from being disappointed, she loves social things and it would bother her if we just ran down to city hall and signed the papers... Oh did I ever tell you I fixed an ID for you before Trunks was born? I made your family name Ouji, by the way.”

Vegeta could see Bulma wanted to ask him more about Saiyan marriage customs. “You Humans make too much of a fuss over things.”

“You Saiyans are altogether too secretive,” Bulma replied in a similar tone, but allowed the matter to drop.


	10. Losing It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m a manga fan first so I use the term Cultivars for the creatures the anime called Saibamen.

Trunks watched closely as Gohan rolled his ball back and forth. The ball was fun to jump on but Trunks had bigger prey in mind. The little boy crouched on all fours and sprang just as the ball left Gohan’s hand. He overshot the ball. There was a moment when Trunks thought Gohan was going to snatch him out of the air the way his daddy snatched toys out of the air when he threw them but it passed and he landed squarely on Gohan. The older boy obligingly toppled over backwards and Trunks found himself perched triumphantly on Gohan’s chest.

“Ahhh! You caught me!” Gohan exclaimed playfully. “Now what are you going to do with me?”

Trunks thought about that for a moment then growled and tried to bite the older boy the way he had been biting his ball and pretty much anything else that would fit in his mouth and didn’t smell utterly revolting.

Gohan restrained him. “No biting,” he said firmly.

Trunks scowled. He was given the freedom to choose what to do with his prey but the first time that freedom was exercised he got slapped down.

Gohan sat up, smoothly shifting Trunks from his chest to riding him piggy-back style.

“Ride!” Trunks cheered and forgot his sulk. “Ride G’han!”

“Do you have a good grip Trunks-chan?” Gohan asked.

Trunks knotted his fists in Gohan’s hair. The older boy winced. “Yep, you’ve got a good grip. I’m going to have to cut my hair short before my little brother or sister shows up or I’ll end up plucked bald,” he said as he removed Trunks’ hands from his hair and shifted the little boy’s grasp to his shoulders.

“Gohan, the dishes aren’t going to wash themselves,” Chichi called from the kitchen.

“But Mom!” Gohan protested.

“No buts, young man,” Chichi said. “Just because we aren’t at home doesn’t mean you’re excused from doing chores.”  
  
“But Bulma has robots-“

“I don’t care - Oh!” Chichi broke off as she doubled over in pain.

“Mom!” Gohan exclaimed his eyes filling with worry.

“I’m okay,” Chichi assured her son. “These things happen sometimes. It’ll pass.”

Gohan picked Chichi up and put her down on one of the kitchen chairs. “You just rest and watch me do the dishes okay Mom?”

“Alright dear.”

Trunks climbed up on Gohan’s head to get a better view of the proceedings. After a few minutes the little demi-Saiyan was making grabs for the dishes and suds as Gohan worked. Eventually Trunks got too enthusiastic and ended up falling head first toward the dish-water. Gohan caught the toddler by the ankle.

“Trunks, you’ve got to be careful,” Gohan scolded. Trunks, still hanging upside-down, reached out and grabbed Gohan’s nose.

“Here, let me take the little miscreant,” Bulma said as she walked into the kitchen. Gohan happily dumped the baby in her arms. “And why are you washing dishes anyway Gohan-kun? I have robots for that.”

“Chores are good for-“ Chichi began then winced.

“Chichi?” Bulma asked.

“It’s probably just false labor,” Chichi said.

“You’re sure? You are about due.”

“Well of course it could be the real thing, but there’s no point in getting worked up until I’m certain now is there?” Chichi demanded.

The dish in Gohan’s hand shattered. “You’re having the-“

“Gohan, I just said I’m not sure and there’s no reason to get worked up yet,” Chichi reprimanded him.

“Gohan, why don’t you go find my parents. Let them know the baby might be coming. That way we’ll have plenty of drivers on standby if this turns out to be the real deal,” Bulma offered.

“Right!” Gohan exclaimed and rushed off, grateful to be given something useful to do.

“Chichi do you have your bag packed?” Bulma asked.

“This might not be-“

“Yeah but do you really want to wait until after your water breaks to worry about these things?” Bulma replied. “I swear I won’t let Gohan cart you off to the hospital until that happens but you ought to be ready just in case.”

“My bag is sitting behind the door in your guest room,” Chichi sighed. “I threw the last few things in about fifteen minutes ago when the contractions started getting closer together.”

“Good. Then the only thing to do is wait,” Bulma said.

“You can wait,” Chichi replied as she pushed herself to her feet. “I’m sure I’m forgetting something I need to do first. I’ve only worked out Gohan’s study plan for the next two weeks and there are probably another dozen things I need to finish before the baby comes.”

“Chichi!” Bulma protested as the younger woman started to leave the kitchen.

Vegeta was just walking in when Chichi determinedly marched out. She plowed right into the Saiyan Prince then bounced back like she’d hit a wall. Vegeta caught her arm and steadied her on her feet. “Watch where you’re going Harpy.” he growled.

Chichi glared at him.

“And what’s your brat so excited about?”

Bulma grinned “Gohan’s just-“

“Not that brat,” Vegeta interrupted with a glance toward Chichi’s stomach. “That one’s ki has been spiking all morning.”

Bulma’s eyes widened. “So it’s just false labor huh Chi?”

“What would he know about it?” Chichi snapped.

“Nothing,” Vegeta said. “And I like it that way.”

Vegeta switched the conversation over to his original reason for coming to the kitchen. “Woman, give me our brat. I know how to put a stop to his nonsense about the GR,” he said.

“What’s this brilliant plan of yours?” Bulma asked warily.

“He can watch me train,” Vegeta said.

“The GR isn’t fixed yet,” Bulma pointed out.

“I couldn’t take the brat in there if it were,” Vegeta snorted. “He doesn’t know the difference and that’s the point.”

 

* * *

 

Even given that the GR wasn’t working it was still the best place for him right now Vegeta decided. It was sound proof and the door locked, the perfect place for him to stay while the rest of the Capsule Corps’ inhabitants went insane over the impeding birth of Kakarrot’s second brat.

Trunks had carried on like a little banshee for the first twenty minutes then realized that he was in boringly empty room. Then he promptly quit wailing and set about making a nuisance of himself. Trunks decided that his father’s feet made excellent prey, especially since there wasn’t anything else for him to chase.

Training with his brat constantly getting underfoot wasn’t the most efficient use of Vegeta’s time but to his relief Vegeta found that the boy wasn’t triggering flashbacks anymore. Trunks wasn’t quite as helpless as he’d been and Vegeta found he had a few memories of himself at this stage of development, a few hazy scraps of recollection from a time before he’d been aware of Frieza, when irritating Nappa had been his biggest worry and his biggest temptation. There was something oddly relaxing about having to alter the pattern of his kata after every fifth movement to avoid stepping on the toddler and Trunks found his illusive quarry endlessly entertaining. Two hours passed peacefully for the pair.

Vegeta frowned when the inter-com’s cackle invaded his sanctuary. “Vegeta, Bulma needs to talk to you,” Bunny chimed. “I’ll just patch her through shall I?”

Vegeta grunted something that wasn’t outright refusal, Bunny chose to take it as an assent and a moment later Bulma’s voice was piped over the intercom. “Vegeta, I really need your help. Gohan’s working himself up into a real state. He going Super Saiyan every time his mom screams. I tried explaining that giving birth isn’t exactly a picnic and nothing’s wrong but he’s not listening very well at the moment. He won’t leave and him being here is only getting both him and the medical staff more nervous. You’re the only one who has any chance at all of making him do anything.”

Vegeta considered the situation. If the brat snapped Bulma would undoubtedly be at ground zero. “Fine woman,” he said. Maybe if he got lucky he’d get a decent spar out of situation. ‘Or end up in a bloody pulp,’ a little voice reminded Vegeta, he’d seen what Gohan could do when pushed too far.

A few minutes later Vegeta walked through the hospital doors. He had suppressed his ki because Gohan felt like a pulsating wound from a mile away and Vegeta didn’t know how the boy would react to sensing another warrior’s approach. He found Gohan and Bulma in the waiting room. The situation had degraded since Bulma’s call and Gohan was constantly flickering between Super Saiyan and his normal state. The boy was fighting to control his power and he was losing. The air in the room was electrified and flowed under the influence of the invisible currents of power swirling around Gohan.

“Brat, you’re making the humans jumpy,” Vegeta stated in a low, calm voice. “Leave.”

“I won’t leave her!” Gohan exclaimed as he gave into the urge to ascend.

Vegeta matched him. “I am your prince and you will do as I say,” he ordered without raising his voice.

“Try and make me,” Gohan hissed as his power soared even higher.

“It’s no concern of mine if we take out this entire block,” Vegeta said. “Go ahead and resist.” Vegeta smiled darkly in triumph as he tossed Gohan over his shoulder without opposition.

“Thank you,” Bulma mouthed silently.

“You owe me,” Vegeta returned. He strolled out of the hospital acting as if he couldn’t care less about the deadly aura gathering around Gohan. The boy fought to hang on to his over-taxed emotions until they were well clear of the hospital.

Vegeta flew just over three miles from the city before Gohan lost it. Forewarned by the changes in Gohan’s ki, Vegeta tossed the boy away from him a moment before Gohan ascended to Super Saiyan Two.

Gohan caught himself in mid-air. For several seconds he just hung there while blue energy-discharges coursed over his body. Vegeta watched him with a mixture of jealousy and fear; he had yet to fully surpass Super Saiyan.

“You had no right!” Gohan cried and attacked.

Vegeta fell back under the onslaught but kept Gohan from landing a solid blow. The Saiyan Prince allowed himself a predatory smile. The power was the same as he remembered from the Cell Games but Gohan didn’t hate him. The attack was undisciplined; not that of a warrior seeking a kill but a child lashing out in confusion.

For Gohan the lack of hate was a handicap in his fighting. He was scared and angry and railing against fate. Vegeta was providing him with something to loose his frustrations on but Gohan hated losing control. Gohan was a berserker, he needed to be driven beyond the moral beliefs he’d been raised to embrace before he could fight full out. Gohan was intrinsically a gentle person, he didn’t want to hurt anyone. He held back when he sparred, winning meant less to him than not doing harm. Unlike his father, Gohan had never been able to trust himself to know when to stop if he let himself cut loose. He was fighting himself as much as he was fighting Vegeta.

For Vegeta the lack of emotion only made him more effective. His mind was cold and clear, completely focused on the task at hand. Gohan’s faltering control was a problem that could be solved in the comfortable realm of battle, not the unfamiliar territory of a mind that had turned on him. Vegeta was a warrior, even before Frieza had taken him he’d been killing Cultivars as practice for real battle. Vegeta was a strategist, he fought with his mind, analyzing and using his opponents’ weaknesses against them, adapting their techniques for his own use. Vegeta had always fought best when his mind was calm, it was only when the hot rage of injured pride or other emotion got in the way that he made mistakes.

Vegeta knew Gohan’s handicap going into the fight. He knew he wasn’t the real target. He knew if he fought defensively until Gohan was past the first rage the boy would defeat himself.

With the two most powerful beings on the planet going at it blazing with ki that rivaled the power of the sun it didn’t take long for the rest of the Z-fighters to gather. They floated in the air in a rough circle around the warring pair.

“Vegeta, what did you do?” Piccolo demanded.

Vegeta dodged a punch then spun around to kick Gohan in the back. “The harpy is whelping,” he said. “If you want to play with him be my guest.” The vicious grin Vegeta sent in Piccolo’s direction said he didn’t think Piccolo had a chance of withstanding Gohan’s onslaught.

Gohan kicked, Vegeta blocked and flew backwards to end up embedded in a mountain.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself,” Piccolo commented.

Vegeta ripped himself out of the mountain a second before Gohan plowed through it. “Glad you noticed,” he said. Vegeta’s tone was sarcastic but the truth was the fight focused him on the here and now. It was a relief for him to know that if trouble came he could still trust himself in battle.

“What do we do?” Kuririn wondered.

“Watch,” Piccolo offered. “Help Vegeta if it looks like Gohan might kill him.”

“Why bother?” Yamcha asked.

“Gohan doesn’t need the guilt,” Piccolo replied sternly.

“I was just kidding,” Yamcha protested.

However it quickly became apparent that Vegeta didn’t require any help. He kept control of the fight until Gohan had spent enough of his frustration and fear to take control of himself.

Vegeta fell back to let the others deal with it once the fun was over.

Gohan floated in mid-air his head down, his fists clenched and his breath coming in harsh pants.

Piccolo put a hand on his erstwhile pupil’s back. “Are you ready to talk about it?” he asked. “It is obvious that you are not ‘fine’.”

“Mom’s having a baby and the baby isn’t going to have a dad. Dad’s gone and he’s not coming back and it’s my fault! It’s all my fault!” Gohan cried.

“No it isn’t, Gohan,” Piccolo insisted.

Kuririn nodded. “I could have stopped Cell from becoming perfect but I didn’t because I couldn’t destroy 18.”

“Vegeta could have stopped him before he became perfect, but he was too arrogant,” Yamcha added helpfully. “We all could have done things differently

“Everyone tells me it wasn’t my fault, even Vegeta said it was Dad’s choice,” Gohan admitted. “But you’re all wrong. It was my fault. I didn’t destroy Cell when Dad told me to. Dad wouldn’t have had to chose if I’d just done what he said. But I was stupid and cruel and I wanted to hurt Cell not just destroy him. And my dad died because of me.”

“Gohan!”

“It’s not your fault!”

“Your Dad would never have wanted you to feel like this!”

“Does it make you feel like you’re in control?” Vegeta’s low voice cut through the other Z-fighter’s protests like a blade and his question left silence in it’s wake.

Shocked, Gohan stared at Vegeta.

“Well?” Vegeta asked sharply. “Does blaming yourself make you feel like you could have changed the outcome?”

“Not that it does any good,” Vegeta continued after giving what he’d said a moment to hit home. “You’ll never change what happened. Remember what Trunks told us, even with a time machine his past was immutable. The only things you’ll find in dwelling on what might have been are bitterness and ashes.”

“What do you know about it?” Gohan demanded.

Vegeta’s lips twisted in a parody of a smile. “Your world still exists.”

For a long time after Vega had left the Z-fighter stared after him in stunned silence.

Finally Gohan said. “I thought I was okay, but then, with Mom and the baby and I have to take care of them but I couldn’t stop Dad from dying and she was screaming and I just, it was just too much, I didn’t know what to do or anything. Everyone is counting on me and I don’t know what to do.”

“Gohan, you are not responsible for everything. You are not expected to solve all the world’s problems,” Piccolo said firmly. “Your mother will tell you how best to help with your family. From what I know of Chichi she has extremely definite ideas about running her family.”

Gohan nodded. Now that he thought about it his mom could be pretty bossy. He felt a little bit of the weight of the world that had fallen on his shoulders when he realized he was the only one who could beat Cell slipping away.

“And come talk to me when you feel overwhelmed.” Piccolo continued. “You are not responsible for me. I’m still your sensei.”

Gohan smiled weakly. “Thanks Piccolo-san.”

“You may have saved the earth, but you can let the rest of us help out a little,” Yamcha said. “You don’t want us to all feel useless now do you?”

Kuririn smiled and ruffled Gohan’s hair. “Yep, you might be the strongest but older and wiser has to count for something, right? You can always come to any of us.” He glanced in the direction in which Vegeta had flown off. “Even him... I never would have imagined that. I never realized it but I guess he takes that Prince of all Saiyans stuff pretty seriously.”

 

* * *

 

Vegeta flew back toward Capsule Corp. He wanted to be home before he gave in to the memories he’d stirred up.

He landed unsteadily on Bulma’s balcony then staggered inside and sank on to the bed. With Bulma’s scent surrounding him, giving him a life-line to the present he stopped fighting. He trusted Bulma’s father and the man said that if he wanted the flashbacks to stop he had to deal with the memories not just push them away. He let go and the past wash over him like a tsunami.

_Vegeta’s joints and muscles were suffused with an intense ache that pushed him to the brink of insanity. He paced around his quarters on Frieza’s ship like a caged beast._

_There were three times in a Saiyan’s life when they were supposed to be vulnerable: as infants, during the short, furious growth spurt that changed their bodies from child to adult and when they found the battle that would end their lives. The first was a dim memory for Vegeta, part of his distant past before Frieza. The last promised to be a momentary state that would quickly give way to oblivion. The third time was now and while six months sounded short in theory, in practice it was an eternity of pain that was both physical and mental._

_Vegeta’s instincts demanded that he seek a safe haven where none existed. Several years earlier he’d watched as Radditz screamed for his parents and his squad mates, all dead in the ashes of Vegeta-sai. Vegeta didn’t want people, he wanted solitude, he wanted lightyears of vacuum surrounding his pod in all directions._

_Frieza wouldn’t let him off the base. The damned lizard made a point of visiting Vegeta regularly, ‘To check on my favorite little monkey prince.’ The bastard knew his presence drove Vegeta into shaking fits and sadistically enjoyed every moment of suffering that he caused._

_Nappa, filthy traitor that he was, wouldn’t help Vegeta escape. Rationally Vegeta knew Nappa was right about a pod not being safe; he’d already had two incidents where he’d lost control of his ki. If he’d been in a pod he would have destroyed it and condemned himself to a slow death by suffocation in deep space but logic was playing a very small role in Vegeta’s current thought processes._

_Nappa himself was another source of confusion and distress for the teenaged prince. Vegeta’s bodyguard since infancy should have been a reassuring presence. But for most of Vegeta’s life Nappa had been an inadequate protector at best. Still the older Saiyan had picked Vegeta up and seen him put back together more times than Vegeta could count. But the spells of black rage that Nappa had begun to fall into after Vegeta-sai’s destruction ended any sense of security that Vegeta might have derived from his bodyguard’s presence._

_Vegeta flexed and stretched his fingers, the joints popped like firecrackers and he would have sworn that he could almost see his hands getting bigger. “Father should have waited,” he said feverishly. “Just five more years, he should have waited. I could have saved them. I’ll be grown soon then I’ll defeat Frieza like he told me to. I’ll keep my promise. I will.”_

_It was only the fifty-sixth time that day that Nappa and Radditz had sat through one of Vegeta’s rants on how he’d soon be able to defeat Frieza, about how he could have saved their people if only..._

_Nappa grabbed the gangly teenager and slammed him against the wall. Vegeta screamed in outrage._

_“Just shut up!” Nappa exclaimed. “Don’t you get it you little idiot! You’re never going to beat Frieza! King Vegeta lied to you! He sent you here to die and me to die with you!”_

_“He said I’d become a Super Saiyan here! That I’d save everyone from Frieza!” Vegeta shouted back._

_“He lied,” Nappa repeated. The older Saiyan’s voice dropped to a venomous hiss. “They’re right when they call you ‘prince of nothing.’ Your father had another heir chosen even before Frieza took you. You were completely expendable to him. All he expected from you was for you to keep Frieza distracted from the real Crown Prince Vegeta.”_

_“NO!” Vegeta shouted. He knocked Nappa across the room with a burst of strength and stormed out of his quarters determined to get away. From Nappa, from Frieza and from a truth he couldn’t face._

Vegeta used his tether to the present, surroundings that reeked of the woman’s scent, to pull himself out of the memory. To look at it rationally. To use the perspective time and distance had given him.

Nappa had been torn between his role as Vegeta’s protector and his desire to punish his young charge because Nappa never truly adjusted to having survived his race. Nappa spent years mixing protection with cruelty until Vegeta had grown past the need for a protector, until Vegeta became someone for Nappa to fear.

Vegeta had blamed himself for the destruction of his planet but when Nappa told him it hadn’t been his fault he only felt worse. Vegeta’s father had given him a mission when he sent his young son into the monster’s lair. Vegeta had failed in that mission and his people died. Nappa stripped away his responsibility for Vegeta-sai’s destruction and left him with the unpalatable truth that he’d been nothing more than Frieza’s hostage. Vegeta told himself he could have saved everyone if he’d only been stronger, better, if he’d only done things differently. Nappa told him he’d had no control at all.

_“You were a toy the king allowed Frieza to play with to keep him distracted.”_

The guilt was preferable to the thought of having been helpless. And so he’d clung to it even when it was an anchor pulling him under.

Bulma’s slender arms wrapped around him, he felt her weight come to rest against his back. When she spoke her lips brushed against the side of his neck. “Thank you for taking care of Gohan today. I’m sorry. It triggered another flashback didn’t it?”

Vegeta shrugged noncommitally.

“I wish you’d talk to me.” Bulma sighed. “I want to help.”

Another memory came. To Vegeta’s surprise it came like a bubble rising to the surface rather than as a tidal wave smashing over him.

_Radditz dropped to the catwalk with feline grace. Vegeta scowled at the older boy, until he had finished his primary growth phase and had a chance to adjust to the changes in his body his own movements were going to remain painfully clumsy and he resented that Radditz had already gotten over this misery._

_Vegeta’s scowl deepened when Radditz dared to ruffle his hair before sitting beside Vegeta. ‘Third class morons really had no place outside of a barracks,’ Vegeta thought irritably. It had take Radditz three months to get over being in awe of his prince. After that he’d adopted the roughly affectionate ‘older brother’ mannerisms his squad had employed with him. Vegeta sneered and protested but had yet to do anything truly effective to put the older boy in his place._

_For several minutes the two boys sat in silence on the catwalk, their legs dangling into the void as they watched the people on the deck of the hanger-bay scurry around like rats._

_“My mom’s unit specialized in protecting the supply lines for the big campaigns,” Radditz said once the silence became uncomfortable. “Some of the Elites treated her like crap because she wasn’t frontline but without her they wouldn’t have eaten and you know how well Saiyans fight on empty stomachs. She did her part.”_

_“Your point?” Vegeta snapped._

_“So did you,” Radditz said. “The way I see it you bought us six years to get ready for Frieza and that ain’t too shabby.”_

“I actually listened to that third class idiot,” Vegeta muttered.

“Goku?” Bulma asked.

“No. The other one, Radditz.” Vegeta snorted. “Can’t believe I was repeating that moron’s advice to his nephew.”

“Radditz!” Bulma cringed.

“You only met the walking dead man,” Vegeta said.

For a time Vegeta was silent. Bulma waited patiently.

“Nappa was the only one of us who broke outright when the planet was destroyed,” Vegeta said. “Vegeta-sai meant different things for us. Nappa’s bloodline had guarded and advised the Saiyan King for fifteen generations, for as long as my bloodline had ruled. I was supposed to have been his king. He should have been reassigned when I was given to Frieza but my father was soft. Nappa would have gladly died for the Saiyan race but when our race died he had nothing to live for.”

“For Radditz Vegeta-sai was the people he had ties to, his parents and his squad. A typical third class really. After they died he tried to forge new connections. It wasn’t until Frieza made it clear that we would never be allowed to find new families that Radditz broke.”

Vegeta glanced at Bulma. “I sent Radditz here to recruit Kakarrot. I had no idea he was going to try using Frieza’s recruitment methods.”

Bulma blinked in confusion. ‘Was Vegeta apologizing for Radditz’s attack?’

“Frieza was getting tired of playing with me, the mission he’d given the three of us was suicide but I still couldn’t face him. I had to buy more time,” Vegeta continued. “We could have explained Kakarrot. Radditz used to talk about his family all the time, Nappa and I couldn’t shut the idiot up. It wouldn’t have given the others away if Radditz had just happened to know the coordinates of the planet his brother had been sent to.”

Bulma’s mouth dropped open. “The others?” she asked.

“There were a few dozen Saiyans not accounted for in Frieza’s slaughter. Before he destroyed the planet he recalled all the off-world teams to his bases and had them killed but there was no possible way to recall the children sent on Infant Missions. I don’t know if Frieza planned to kill them as they returned or send assassins after them at his leisure, but we stopped it. Nappa and I destroyed the records after we’d memorized the coordinates. We had outside help...”

For a moment Vegeta’s eyes widened in a look of complete astonishment. “No, that isn’t possible,” he muttered and dismissed what ever thought had crossed his mind.

“We had an outside ally,” he continued before Bulma could ask. “We sent him after the children. He removed their programing and left them to blend into the worlds they’d been sent to destroy so that they would remain hidden and safe from Frieza until we were ready to fight him. Eventually Frieza realized his records were gone but he never guessed that I held the coordinates in my mind, he bought it when I told him they were lost.” Vegeta genuinely smiled without a trace of bitterness. The sight of it took Bulma’s breath away, for a moment she was seeing the person he might have been without the decades under Frieza ingraining rage into his very soul. Pride and joy in this one victory over Frieza, in having saved even a few of his people from the tyrant shown in his face.

Then it was gone. “It was pointless. Only males were sent on Infant Missions, the Saiyan race died with Vegeta-sai. Beyond that the return rate had always been low for the missions, the ones we saved from Frieza more than likely died at the hands of the people they were sent to conquer. I was grasping at straws when I sent Radditz here and he fucked it up.”

Vegeta turned away from Bulma. “If there’d have been anything left of Radditz at all Kakarrot would have woken it up. His family meant everything to him, but he threatened the life of his nephew and ended up in a fight to the death with his kid brother. If I needed any proof that he was broken beyond repair his actions here provided it.”

“What was Vegeta-sai for you?” Bulma asked softly when it seemed Vegeta wouldn’t continue without prompting.

Vegeta stared into the distance but his hand curled around Bulma’s. “Vegeta-sai was my goal.” he said without inflection. “I was exiled from my world when I was four years old. Only when I became strong enough to be worthy would I have been allowed to go home. I never made it.”

 

 

 


	11. History Lessons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Too long a sacrifice  
> Can make a stone of the heart.  
> O when may it suffice?  
> That is heaven's part, our part  
> To murmur name upon name,  
> As a mother names her child  
> When sleep at last has come  
> On limbs that had run wild.  
> What is it but nightfall?  
> No, no, not night but death;  
> Was it needless death after all?  
> For England may keep faith  
> For all that is done and said.  
> We know their dream; enough  
> To know they dreamed and are dead.  
> And what if excess of love  
> Bewildered them till they died?  
> I write it out in a verse --  
> MacDonagh and MacBride  
> And Connolly and Pearse  
> Now and in time to be,  
> Wherever green is worn,  
> Are changed, changed utterly:  
> A terrible beauty is born.
> 
> \-- William Butler Yeats  
>  Easter, 1916

“What makes you think I want to see a squalling brat? Especially Kakarrot’s?” Vegeta grumbled as he followed Bulma into the bright, anapestically airy hospital. Without Gohan’s all but out of control ki beating against his senses Vegeta was much more conscious of his surroundings and he decided he didn’t like them.

Bulma cheerfully ignored Vegeta’s grumbling. She juggled carrying Trunks in one arm and a bouquet for Chichi in the other. The simple fact that Vegeta was there was proof enough that he was curious about the newest demi-Saiyan. “That’s the room,” Bulma hinted with a jerk of her head.

Vegeta considered his options then took Trunks to free up one of Bulma’s hands. It did the least to dispel the fiction that he was there under protest. Bulma opened the door and Vegeta grudgingly followed her inside.

Gohan sat on the edge of his mother’s bed. The boy looked nervous and delighted as he held his new baby brother under his mother’s watchful eye.

“Congratulations!” Bulma exclaimed. She plunked the flowers down on the night stand beside Chichi’s bed and leaned over the bundle in Gohan’s arms to get a better a look. “Oh wow! He looks exactly like Son-kun.”

Chichi smiled, pleased and tired. She nodded, the resemblance was truly uncanny. She took it as a reminder that a part of her husband would always be with her.

Gohan looked at Vegeta and flushed with embarrassment. “Vegeta-san, I’m sorry about yesterday and thank you for taking care of me,” he said. Then he smiled. “This is going to sound strange, but losing the fight really made me feel a lot better.”

“I’d be happy to beat you up again any time,” Vegeta replied with a smirk.

“Can I hold him?” Bulma asked as she relieved Gohan of the baby.

“Certainly,” Chichi said wryly.

“What’s his name?” Bulma asked.

“He’s Goten,” Gohan volunteered. “I didn’t think he be that little.”

“He’ll grow,” Chichi promised.

“I know that Mom,” Gohan said indignantly.

Bulma carried Goten over to show him to Trunks. “Trunks, this is Goten-chan. You two are going to be best friends, just like Goten’s dad and I were.”

Trunks twisted around in his father’s grasp to get a better look at the pink squirming thing his mother was holding. Then he made an disappointed sound. It didn’t look like it would be much fun to play in his opinion.

“When he’s a little older Trunks-chan. Trust me,” Bulma promised. She settled the baby back into Gohan’s arms. Goten yawned and stretched then a fuzzy brown tail snuck out of the blankets and wrapped itself firmly around Gohan’s wrist.

“You didn’t have his tail removed?” Bulma exclaimed in shock. Vegeta was also staring at the child’s tail with the look of one who suddenly found himself faced with an unexpected dilemma.

Chichi shrugged. “Both Gohan and Goku had tails when they were younger. It was so cute when Gohan would suck on the end of his tail when he was a baby.” Her gaze soften with nostalgia, both for the little boy who’d stolen her heart when they were both just children and for the days when her family had been complete and she’d believed that peace on earth would last. “I have no idea where their tails disappeared to. I suppose Goten’s will vanish at some point as well but until then...”

“But Chichi! What about the moon?” Bulma asked.

“What about the moon?” Chichi asked cluelessly. “Has someone blown it up again?”

“You don’t know?” Bulma asked.

Gohan fidgeted nervously. “Um, Mom, about my tail. Piccolo-san sort of um, well ripped it off after I, well, um turned intoagiantmonkeyandwentonarampage.”

“You did what?” Chichi shrieked.

“How can you not know about the Oozaru transformation?” Vegeta snapped. “When a Saiyan who’s tail is intact looks at the full moon they transform into the Oozaru state. It was one of the things that made us feared throughout the galaxy.”

Chichi took Goten back from Gohan and cuddled him close. “He looks so much like Goku when he was little,” she said stubbornly. “It was never a problem with either Gohan or Goku.”

Vegeta stared at her in disbelief.

Bulma chewed her lower lip. “Um, did Goku ever tell you about why you shouldn’t look at the moon? About the monster and how his Grandpa died? Chichi none of us ever had the heart to tell Goku that he was the monster who squished his grandfather.”

Vegeta watched the a look of indecision settle on Chichi’s face. Human sentimentality made little sense to him but he was beginning to recognize it when he saw the signs. Vegeta hadn’t been angry when he realized that Bulma had Trunks’ tail removed. He’d wondered about Bulma’s decision but he’d never been angry about it. In a way it was actually a relief. He knew Trunks would become a Super Saiyan when he was older and so the power of the Oozaru transformation would be irrelevant for him. Vegeta occasionally found himself intently missing his tail like he would any lost limb but Trunks would never remember having a tail to miss. And with his tail removed there was no concern about how the transformation would take Trunks.

It occurred to Vegeta that he was the only person left alive who knew the cost the Saiyan people had paid for the power of the Oozaru transformation. He was the only one who could inform Chichi of what might happen. “A pure blooded Saiyan male has a twenty percent chance of dying the first time they transform,” Vegeta said.

Chichi’s eyes widened fearfully. She hugged Goten tighter and pulled Gohan close as well. Chichi summoned a doctor to tell them she’d changed her mind about not having Goten’s tail removed.

Bulma leaned against Vegeta. “Why were your people willing to tolerate such a horrible risk?” she asked quietly.

Vegeta just looked at her.

“For the power,” Bulma said after a moment, in answer to her own question. “Still, how could it have been worth that kind of a mortality rate? The Infant Missions, this. How did the Saiyans justify losing so many kids?”

For a time Vegeta didn’t answer. Then he decided that Gohan should know a little about his father’s race. And if he was going to have to talk to Bulma about his past it would be easier if she knew something of his people’s history. “Everything the Saiyan race had we took by force and we held it the same way,” Vegeta said. He spoke to Bulma but modulated his voice to catch Gohan’s attention. “I’ve heard humans say they inherited this planet, that it was given to you. Vegeta-sai was not a gift, we took it.”

“From the Tuffles,” Chichi said disapprovingly. “King Kai told Goku about how the Saiyans destroyed the Tuffle civilization back when Goku was training to fight you.”

“They got what they deserved,” Vegeta’s voice was harsh.

“Just because they weren’t strong enough to defend themselves-“ Chichi began.

Vegeta’s eyes narrowed. He looked at Gohan. “Boy, what do you know about the Tuffles?”

Gohan swallowed nervously. He wasn’t supposed to know anything at all about the subject but he’d overheard his parents talking one night. Both Chichi and Goku had agreed that it wouldn’t be good for him to know that his father’s race had been evil. “Mostly that they were from the same planet as the Saiyans. They were physically smaller but they were more technologically advanced and more numerous so they didn’t worry about the Saiyans, who were, well, aggressive.”

Vegeta snorted with a bitter sort of amusement. When Gohan paused he gestured for the boy to continue.

“The Saiyans attacked the Tuffles and there was a long war, which the Saiyans eventually won. The Tuffles were destroyed.” Gohan shrugged “But I don’t know how accurate that is. Dad was also told that Vegeta-sai was destroyed by the planet’s Kami because the Saiyans well, because they were evil.”

“What!?” Vegeta exclaimed angrily.

“I don’t know why King Kai told Dad that,” Gohan said sadly. “It was Frieza who destroyed Vegeta-sai.”

Vegeta sneered. “He was afraid Kakarrot might feel some allegiance to his own kind.” Vegeta was surprised by just how angry he was. Kakarrot, and by extension his brat, had been manipulated to reject the entire Saiyan race. “The Tuffles didn’t fear us, that much is true. They looked down on us as animals too stupid to take revenge when they stole our people for their experiments. They though we could be used as their weapons. They thought they controlled us.”

Bulma gapped at Vegeta. She was stunned that he was admitting to a weakness without having it dragged out of him.

Gohan wondered at the shear magnitude of hate in Vegeta’s voice, aimed a people who must have been dead generations before Vegeta’s birth.

Chichi remembered late night conversations with Goku during the months he’d spent in the hospital before leaving for Planet Namek. When he’d first told her about being Saiyan she’d known it bothered him. It was the only time she’d ever know Goku to try to deny a part of himself. And she’d hated the Saiyans, because of them her son and her husband had been taken from her without warning for a whole year. When they came back both Goku and Gohan had shadows in their eyes that hadn’t been there before.

But when Goku finally came home from space the shadows had been gone. Goku had been at peace with himself again and his attitude toward the other full-blooded Saiyan currently living on the planet had been openly friendly much to Chichi’s annoyance. She was glad Goku was happy again, but she didn’t understand what had changed and she wasn’t ready to just forget about the pain the Saiyans’ arrival had caused her family. She hadn’t wanted to admit that Vegeta had to be the reason Goku didn’t feel the need to deny being Saiyan anymore.

“We wouldn’t be controlled.” Vegeta bit off his words in a staccato voice full of anger and bitterness. “We took what they began and finished it. Then we came for them. We smashed their cities and the technology that allowed them to believe that they were better than us. My people wanted nothing of the things they thought to enslave us with.”

Bulma remembered Yamcha telling her of being sent back to a world of smashed cities littered with skeletons.

Vegeta grimaced. “Then we realized that we were dying.” He glanced toward Goten. “A twenty percent mortality rate was an improvement and it always hit the females hardest.”

“In Frieza’s army they looked down on us because our written history only went back fifteen generations.” Vegeta’s entire posture radiated injured pride. “They joked, but with the remnants of the Tuffles’ technology we traveled to the stars in less time than it takes most races to come up with the steam engine. Then we taught the old races to fear us.” Vegeta gave Gohan a sardonic grin. “We had to, to survive. Your father’s race wasn’t evil, brat.” He glanced at Trunks. “I might be, but it’s not genetic.”

“Vegeta,” Chichi said quietly. “Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

Goten’s tail was removed without complications. Still the doctors chose to keep Goten and Chichi in the hospital for several more days just in case and just because Goten’s vitals were so different. Gohan continued staying at Capsule Corp so he could be closer to his mother and little brother.

Meanwhile Bulma set a date and got serious about planning her wedding.

“Mom, I said no,” Bulma exclaimed when she saw a stack of invitation sitting at her mother’s elbow. There were easily three times as many invitations as were needed for the Z-fighters.

Trunks continued playing happily with his food. Gohan checked the clock to see how long it would be before visiting hours at the hospital. Vegeta gave a small snort of annoyance at the latest cropping up of the ever present discussion. If he’d known how much fuss getting married entailed he might have hesitated longer before proposing it.

“But what about your friends from school?” Bunny argued. “And the people in your lab? And some of your father and I’s friends have know you since you were a little girl, they’d love to come.”

“Too bad, I want a small wedding. The people in my lab have been terrified of Vegeta ever since the incident when my secretary tried telling him he couldn’t see me without an appointment. My high school friends became ex-friends about the time Trunks was born. And they all make my friends uncomfortable. I don’t want anyone who’s going to stare at Piccolo or Dende or shriek when they see people flying. You know that idiot Satan has everyone associating ki usage with Cell and his so-called ‘tricks’,” Bulma rolled her eyes as she made quote marks in the air. “And what if Lunch sneezes? That’s exciting enough around the initiated.”

“Alright dear, you’ve made your point,” Bunny conceded. “Which Lunch did you ask to be your brides’ maid again?”

“The brunette,” Bulma replied. “It seemed more like the sort of thing she’d enjoy.”

“And have you decided on a best man yet?” Bunny asked Vegeta.

Vegeta turned to watch Bulma’s reactions. “Trunks,” he stated.

“He’s a toddler, he’ll eat the rings,” Bulma protested. “How about Gohan, you like him.”

“Me? Like Kakarrot’s spawn? You’re delusional.”

“You do too.”

“I do not.”

“I’m sitting right here,” Gohan said.

“Yeah? So?”

“Do too like him.”

“Do not.”

“Children,” Bunny interjected pleasantly.

“Piccolo, he doesn’t annoy you,” Bulma suggested.

“Of course he does, he’s a Namek.”

“You’re being difficult,” Bulma sighed.

Vegeta tried a ‘who me?’ look but he couldn’t have managed to look innocent if his life depended on it. He settled for a smirk that declared he knew he was and he was enjoying it.

“Kuririn?”

“No.”

“Oolong?”

“You’re grasping at straws. Trunks.”

It wouldn’t be so bad if not for the conversation before hand when Bulma had explained the whole notion of a ‘best man’ and Vegeta had made it abundantly clear that he didn’t want to imply any sort of respect for any of the Z-fighters. “Alright, Trunks. But we’re moving the date back a few weeks.” Bulma declared.  
  
“Why?” Bunny asked.

“So I can build a time machine and fetch the Trunks who is not a toddler,” Bulma said.

Vegeta sat back looking pleased with himself. He could have asked her to find a way to bring Mirai-Trunks back from the start but it was more fun when Bulma thought she was being clever.

“Now Vegeta, you’re certain there’s nothing you want in the ceremony?” Bunny asked.

Vegeta smirked at Bulma. “I want her to put ‘obey’ back into her vows.”

“No, you’d try to hold me to it.”

“And I was beginning to think there might be something redeeming about your culture after all.”

Bulma stuck her tongue out at Vegeta. Trunks giggled and pointed.

Vegeta nodded to the child, “Yes, she does look funny,” he agreed.

“Vegeta, seriously. It’s your wedding too,” Bunny pressed.

“Hn,” Vegeta grunted. ‘Why were females so fascinated with marriage ceremonies?’ he wondered. Dr. Briefs had stated that he was glad Vegeta had proposed then sensibly dropped the matter. The woman and her mother only seemed to talk about two things anymore: the wedding and Kakarrot’s new brat.

“Why would I have anything to contribute to this ridiculous ceremony thing of yours? It had no parallel among the Elite of my world,” Vegeta stated. He hadn’t really wanted to tell them that he was willing to completely disregard his own culture for Bulma but they wouldn’t leave him alone without some sort of answer. “I’m not some sentimental third class like Kakarrot.”

“Do you always have to insult my dad with that third class stuff?” Gohan asked quietly.

“Facts aren’t insults,” Vegeta declared. “Given that Kakarrot never returned from his Infant Mission I’m being generous in calling him a third class.”

Gohan rolled his eyes.

“First class,” Vegeta gestured to himself. “A direct descendant of the Legendary, born with a power level of over one hundred. The Elite were the second class. The power level requirements were the same as for Royalty but there were no considerations around bloodline, you were either strong enough or you weren’t. For females the lower limit for Elite status was a power level of seventy-five at birth. Any healthy female was automatically granted at least third class status but males born with a power of less then twenty were required to prove their worth by completing an Infant Mission.” Vegeta’s tone took on the dry tones of one reciting the most boring of history lessons. “Most of third class Saiyans attained a power level of at least a thousand after reaching adulthood. If they surpassed a power of 3000 they had the option of testing into the Elite Class.”

“By the time I fought Kakarrot he would have easily tested to the higher ranks of the Elite,” Vegeta admitted. Then he added “Even so, if he’d returned to Vegeta-sai he probably wouldn’t have sought out Elite status. Retesting was only done at an individual’s request and such requests were almost never made.”

Gohan looked puzzled. His mother was always eager to have him test into higher grades and his father had always strove to be the best in martial arts.

“The third class fought in squads,” Vegeta explained. “Testing up meant leaving your squad behind And that didn’t happen unless the squad was already dead.”

Gohan’s eyes lit up with understanding.

As Vegeta explained the Saiyan caste system to Gohan random bits were coming together for Bulma. Simply being born into the royal family wasn’t enough to be considered royalty on Vegeta-sai. Only a small percentage of the population were Elite but there were Elite bloodlines that had lasted for the whole of their history. They had gotten around the law of averages somehow. There was nothing comparable to marriage among the Saiyanjin Elite.

“Saiyans didn’t practice monogamy!” Bulma’s eyes flashed with outrage.

Then the rest of it fell into place and she stared chuckling. Saiyans didn’t practice monogamy, at least not among the Elite and there had been a deficit of females. Vegeta was jealous and possessive of her, and he had no interest in other women. Their relationship wouldn’t have been considered normal, perhaps not even acceptable on Vegeta-sai but he’d proposed to her without prompting and without any sort coercion.

“Oh Vegeta, I love you,” Bulma declared.

Vegeta realized that she’d figured it out and scowled at her. “If Vegeta-sai still existed I would have been expected to produce children with several promising females to ensure that a viable heir to the Legendary’s line was born,” he confirmed.

“My grandparents weren’t married?” Gohan looked scandalized. Then he glanced at Trunks and blushed furiously. “No offense Bulma, Vegeta.”

“None taken,” Bulma said waving it off.

“Bardock and Ko’n had two brats together,” Vegeta said carelessly. “They probably had some sort of arrangement. I don’t know if the third class formalized such things. But they were more prone to forming bonds because of their relative weakness, they needed each other.”

“And what about the Elite who weren’t Royalty?” Bulma asked. It seemed a little strange to her that the culture had been so sharply divided. From what Vegeta had said the third class had apparently formed close bonds which where only abandoned upon death, while the upper castes had scorned such things. Bulma wondered how the Elite class could have chosen to isolate themselves from each other when it was clear to her that Vegeta, at least, hadn’t lost the ability to form close emotional attachments... or the need for them. Bulma wondered how much Vegeta knew about Saiyan culture from first hand experience and how much had been learned in lesson taught to an exiled child.

“I remember Nappa negotiating for an heir,” Vegeta said. “I think the woman was one of my father’s concubines. I don’t think they ever met in person and the child wasn’t Elite. That was the last I heard of it.”

Bunny shivered. “That sounds so cold.

Vegeta looked at his son. “It was necessary,” he said. To himself he continued ‘We never could have sacrificed so much without being as cold as space itself but it was futile. In the end we were left with nothing.’ He’d made sacrifices of his flesh and soul until he had felt like an old tree stump, hollowed out with rot. It as only in finding things that he would never give up; Bulma, Trunks; that he had started to feel alive again.

They’d sacrificed so many of their children for power. Almost half of the Saiyan children born after the war against the Tuffles began had died as children, died because their bodies couldn’t contain their power or because they lacked power and were cast aside. It had made sense to him until his Trunks was lying dead at his feet. After that there was nothing, nothing at all that could be worth his child’s life.

Had they been wrong to hang on to their power with such tenaciousness? If they’d given up the Oozaru transformation they wouldn’t have watched forty percent of their children die the first time they saw the moon. But, of course, they didn’t watch and that was how they had been able to stand it.

Still, how could they have they have given up the power? How could a person risk caring about anything if they didn’t have the power to keep what they allowed in their hearts? If his ancestors hadn’t seized the power that they’d discovered they would have had nothing, would have been reduced to the Tuffle’s mindless, will-less cat’s paws. Because he hadn’t had the power to stop Frieza Vegeta-sai was gone, his race was dead.

When Vegeta surfaced from his thoughts he and Bulma were alone in the kitchen. “You okay?” Bulma asked as she squeezed his hand. “You sort of spaced out for a moment.”

Vegeta’s expression twisted with self-disgust at the thought that he’d let Gohan see the current weakness in his mind. But the only thing he could do about it was forge ahead and repair the flaw.

“Vegeta?”

“Your father said I had to make sense of my memories but all that they tell me is that I question the things my people and I have done to try to survive. We culled the unfit children so that our race would become stronger as a whole. But I wasn’t angry that you removed Trunks’ tail, I told Chichi the risks knowing what her choice would be. I was supposed to have been the Saiyan king, but I sabotage-”

“Did it ever occur to you that you’re right and they were all wrong?” Bulma interjected forcefully.

“And I should become a cheerful moron like Kakarrot?” Vegeta snapped.

“No!” Bulma said quickly. “But you don’t have to be your father either. I just want you to be you.”

“I told you I don’t like killing outside of battle but I’ve killed children younger than Trunks at Frieza’s request.”

“He would have killed you if you hadn’t, don’t argue, you don’t have to tell me that for it to be completely obvious. You didn’t have a choice.”

“When I was young I only killed civilians when I absolutely had to. Later it didn’t seem like it was worth the effort to avoid it. What did it matter if I killed them or if the clean-up crews did it? They all died in the end. Shortly before I came here there was a planet, no one would have wanted it, not after the damage from their civil war. Nappa and I stopped anyway, just to stretch our legs after a few months in the pods. I went looking for the best fight the planet had to offer. We overthrew the standing government and liberated the losers from their war. They called us heroes and it made me angry that I could save their people when I hadn’t been able to save my own.” Vegeta looked at Bulma coldly. “So I blew up the planet.”

Bulma’s mouth hung open silently.

“The only sense I can make of my memories is that they’re telling me it would have been better to have refused Frieza and died before letting myself become so much like him.”

“But you changed back,” Bulma protested weakly.

“Did I? Those idiot reporters are no threat to me but they annoy me. The only reason I don’t kill them all is that it would disturb you. I didn’t stop Cell when I had the chance because it felt good to boast of my superiority after the glorified toaster defeated me. Trunks died because I was over confident and wanted to salve my wounded pride.”

“I sit in judgement of my ancestors’ choices when I can’t even trust my own judgement. I can remember that I once held some regard for the lives of others, but now? Now, when I don’t kill I find myself trying to figure out why I haven’t.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Tuffles come up both the anime for DBZ and in GT but never in the manga. Both times we get an account that’s unreliable. Some elements of the story that King Kai tells Goku about his ancestors are contradicted by what is learned about Frieza later. Then Babi claims that the Saiyans and Tuffles didn’t originate on the same planet and that the Saiyans conquered the Tuffles while under the rule of Vegeta’s father, but that doesn’t make a lot of sense with what Kami showed the Z-Fighters of Vegeta-sai. Obviously the anime’s creators added in filler that was later contradicted in Akira Toriyama’s work, but because all the information about the Tuffles is given second hand instead of being an outright continuity issue (unlike the movies) it just turns the people who delivered the information into unreliable narrators.
> 
> Babi’s version of history is something he was programmed with by the bitter losers of a war, saying the Saiyans were from another planet could easily be twisting history to make the Tuffles into completely innocent victims. King Kai had just met Goku and didn’t know him that well beyond knowing he was Earth’s only chance against the Saiyans and that Goku was Saiyan himself, so King Kai might have felt some motivation to ensure that Goku would look at the Saiyans as his enemies. Still telling Goku that his entire race was so evil that the gods themselves thought they were deserving of genocide seems a bit harsh. I’m going with the theory that Babi’s story is Tuffle propaganda, while King Kai told the truth about the Tuffle/Saiyan conflict, except he omitted anything which might have led Goku sympathize with the Saiyans.
> 
> The poem I included at the first of the chapter is the last stanza in Yeat’s “Easter, 1916", the poem is about a group of Irish insurgents who captured the General Post Office in Dublin and held out for several days before surrendering. Sixteen of them, including the two leaders, Pearse and Connolly, were executed. The first and last bits “Too long a sacrifice can make a stone of the heart”, and “A terrible beauty is born” fit Vegeta so well IMO.


	12. Visitng

Several hours later Vegeta was still brooding. Bulma decided he needed a distraction so she asked him to help her deliver the wedding invitations.

“It’ll be fun,” Bulma said. “Some of them may even faint. I haven’t warned anyone except for Lunch about you proposing.”

Vegeta studied Bulma carefully. “I suppose.” He held out his hand. Bulma smiled in surprise, he didn’t offer to fly with her often. She cuddled against his side and he wrapped his arm around her waist. As they took off Vegeta’s ki wrapped around Bulma like a blanket of electricity. His ki protected her from the fierce winds and filled her with a wild excitement Within the sphere of Vegeta’s power the air had the stillness of an impending lightening storm.

In just a few minutes they were landing on Korin’s balcony. As Vegeta released Bulma he whispered “I owe that filthy samurai.”

Bulma rolled her eyes and sighed. She hopped up to sit on the railing around the balcony, crossed her ankles and got ready for the show.

Power crackled around Vegeta. Korin and Yajirobe came running. Vegeta took a deliberate step toward Yajirobe and gave a short shout. His hair flickered gold and his eyes turned to an icy turquoise.

Yajirobe’s mouth fell open and he scrambled backwards crab-style.

“Sort of childish isn’t he?” Korin asked as he went to sit beside Bulma.

“Umhm,” Bulma said with a nod. She was happily studying Vegeta’s transformed state. She didn’t get to see him as a Super Saiyan too often.

Piccolo flew down from the Lookout. He looked from Bulma and Korin, who were calmly chatting, to Vegeta slowly stalking Yajirobe around the tower. “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded.

“Hi Piccolo!” Bulma said brightly. “Vegeta was just flying me up. You know it isn’t easy getting mail delivered up on the Lookout.” She handed Korin a creamy ornately addressed envelope. Then she quickly shuffled through a stack of similar epistles.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Yajirobe stammered. He nearly toppled over the far balcony in his efforts to escape Vegeta but the Saiyan Prince caught him before he could fall and shoved a letter into his hands. Yajirobe stared at it blankly.

Piccolo opened his invitation. He glanced at Bulma then Vegeta and shook his head in disbelief.

“Congratulations,” Korin said.

“Thank you.” Bulma smiled. “Piccolo, do you think Dende would mind preforming he ceremony?”

“What’s this?” Yajirobe asked. He held the creamy envelope as if it might blow up in his face.

“Are you incapable of reading?” Vegeta demanded as he loomed threateningly over the samurai.

Yajirobe’s eyes darted nervously between the letter and the Super Saiyan. Taking his eyes off Vegeta long enough o read the letter seemed like a very risky undertaking. Finally he gulped and decided to take the risk. “You’re not here to kill me?” he exclaimed a few moments later.

“You’re not worth my time,” Vegeta declared and damped his power. “The woman wants you to come to our wedding.”

“What do you mean going around like that?!” Yajirobe cried. “You could have given me a heart attack!”

Vegeta smiled evilly. It might have been more evidence that there was something wrong with him but he couldn’t deny that he got a kick out of terrorizing people.

Yajirobe gulped.

“Come on Vegeta, you’ve had enough fun with Yajirobe,” Bulma called.

 

* * *

 

“Of course I will. I’d be honored,” Dende said once Bulma had explained her request. “What sort of ceremony do you want me to do?”

“Oh just a basic exchange of vows and rings,” Bulma said. “Anything longer would tax Trunks’ patience, Goten’s too.”

“How are the Sons?” Dende asked. “Gohan stopped by the day after the baby was born but I haven’t visited yet.”

“They’re still at the hospital but everything’s fine. Chichi’s a little worn out so she hasn’t kicked up a fuss about the doctors worrying about little Goten’s half-Saiyan characteristics. They did the same thing when Trunks was born. ‘But he had a tail!’, ‘He’s running a fever!’, ‘He’s sitting up and it’s only been forty-eight hours since he was born!’” Bulma mercilessly mocked the doctors’ tones. “Goten’s gong to look exactly like Goku when he gets older.”

 

* * *

 

Master Roshi, Turtle and Oolong sat in a row on the couch. They looked at the invitations. They looked at Bulma. They looked at Vegeta.

“You’re marrying him?” Oolong asked. “I mean sure you two slept together, hard to miss that, but marrying him?”

“Yep!” Bulma said happily.

“So does this mean we can’t ogle you anymore?” Roshi asked.

Turtle sighed and shook his head. “It was nice knowing you,” he said to Roshi.

“You can,” Vegeta said coldly. “If you don’t mind your intestines being wrapped around a ceiling fan.”

“Hey, Roshi,” Oolong nudged the old master. “Does this mean we get to go to a bachelor party?”

Roshi looked hopeful. Vegeta looked mystified. Bulma and Turtle shared a disgusted look. “Trunks is the best man,” Bulma said. She decided that, in this case, it wasn’t necessary to mention that she meant the teenaged Trunks.

“Well he certainly can’t plan a party,” Oolong said. “Why don’t Roshi and I take care of that?”

“No!” Bulma declared.

The pair exchanged a look that said they’d go ahead with their plans regardless of her decrees, and that getting the groom to the party was only an incidental concern.

“Congratulations, both of you,” Turtle said. “Well, I better get going if I’m going to make it on time.”

* * *

  
  
“I’m sorry Bulma-san,” Tien said. “But I think you’re making a mistake and I won’t encourage it. Trunks is a great kid, he grew up to be a fine young man in the other time-line but do you really want him exposed to that sort of influence?” he nodded toward Vegeta who glowered back.

“Yes, I do,” Bulma said firmly. “Vegeta is Trunks’ father and I love him and I’m delighted he asked me to marry him.”

“It’s your mistake to make,” Tien said.

Bulma watched sadly and Vegeta continued to glare as the triclops turned and walked away.

Chaozu went to follow Tien Shinhan then he hesitated and turned back. “I hope you’ll be happy,” he said.

“Thank you,” Bulma replied quietly. After they’d gone she turned to Vegeta. “If you don’t want to help anymore I could deliver the rest on my own,” she suggested. She wondered if there would be any other refusals.

“No,” Vegeta said. He knew perfectly well what she was thinking. He didn’t care wether or not her friends approved, but it seemed useful to know which ones were most opposed to him.

 

* * *

 

“Baldy’s in there somewhere,” Vegeta declared as he and Bulma landed outside of a busy mall.

“A mall? What’s Kuririn doing at a mall?” Bulma wondered.

“He’s there,” Vegeta confirmed with a shrug. He didn’t care why.

“Lead the way,” Bulma said.

Vegeta gave the mall a doubtful look but waiting outside or suggesting they track Kuririn down later didn’t sound appealing.

“If you don’t want to...” Bulma waffled as she noticed Vegeta’s hesitation.

Vegeta glared at her. “Don’t,” he said.

For a moment Bulma looked confused. Then she realized that not too long ago, before she started worrying about what might trigger a flashback, she would have been doing everything she could to drag Vegeta into the mall. Bulma winced, she knew Vegeta would never tolerate being treated as if he were fragile. She caught his arm and tugged him toward the mall playfully. “Come on,” she called.

They found Kuririn and a pile of packages sitting outside of a dressing room.

“Is this a bad time?” Bulma asked teasingly.

“Vegeta, you got roped into a shipping trip too?” Kuririn asked with a friendly shake of his head. “Man, I never would’ve believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.”

Vegeta stared at the shorter man. He was beginning to get used to friendly greetings from the Briefs and Gohan but Kuririn’s caught him off guard.

Bulma grinned. “Not this time,” she said. “We were actually tracking you down for a reason.” Bulma produced his invitation with a flourish.

“You two are tying the knot? That’s great!” Kuririn exclaimed. “It’s too bad you can’t tell Trunks, well Mirai-Trunks that is. I bet it would totally blow him away.”

“Actually...” Bulma began with a mysterious smile.

Vegeta’s expression softened slightly. His future son would truly be happy about how much his relationship with Bulma had progressed. During the year they’d spent together in the room of Space and Time he and Trunks had reached an understanding but the distance Vegeta had been keeping from Bulma and the infant Trunks had been a sore point between them.

“Er guys? Would you mind if I brought a date?” Kuririn asked.

“Oooh! You’ve got a serious girlfriend!” Bulma exclaimed. “Who is she? Do we know her? What does she look like? You didn’t get back together with that Marron did you?”

Kuririn blushed and fiddled with his fingers. He glanced uncertainly at Vegeta. “Well... um... you see...” He glanced toward the dressing room and smiled a dazed, love-struck smile.

The door opened. “Tell me how this looks,” a cool voice ordered.

Vegeta’s stance changed as he recognized 18. Warily he pulled Bulma behind him.

18 also shifted to a battle ready stance. “I haven’t even had a chance to buy this, you had better not rip it,” she warned Vegeta.

“Kuririn! You and 18 are dating? That’s wonderful!” Bulma tried to push past Vegeta but was firmly held back. “I hope you’ll come to our wedding. Kuririn has all the details.”

18's stance relaxed. She glanced toward Kuririn and saw him smiling happily. “Oh.” she said. “Yes, I’d like to come.”

This time when Bulma tried to get around Vegeta he allowed it. Bulma smiled brightly and offered 18 her hand. “It was good seeing you again,” she said.

18 shook Bulma’s hand with a bemused air.

“We’ll just leave you two to your date now,” Bulma said. She smiled wickedly at Kuririn and the packages. “Have fun.”

 

* * *

 

Two weeks before his wedding Vegeta stood beneath the newly completed time machine. There was a large part of him that said it was frivolous, ridiculous even for him to travel into an alternate future just so his son from that time would see him marry the boy’s mother. But Vegeta knew he’d been a disappointment to Trunks. Trunks’ idealized image of his father suffered a fatal blow in the moment when Vegeta had failed to protect Bulma and the infant Trunks from Gero. It hadn’t taken him long to convince his son that he was a monster. Even so, it hadn’t stopped Trunks from caring about him.

They’d come to an accord in the Room of Space and Time, become father and son in more than just blood but Vegeta had only shown Trunks the parts of himself that he felt were appropriate for the Prince of all Saiyans. Trunks had walked out of that room believing that his father was physiologically incapable of affection. Trunks quit asking for what he believed Vegeta was incapable of giving. Kakarrot had told Vegeta that it would make Trunks happy to know that there had been more than just sex between his parents but the fact that he had emotions for Bulma had seemed like too much of a vulnerability to Vegeta. Vegeta had seen what love did to Radditz, had watched as it cost his almost-friend his reason. Vegeta had already lost too much to ever want to give another hostage to fortune, but somehow Bulma had snuck past his defenses. When he realized what had happened Vegeta had tried to purge himself of his feeling for Bulma and the child.

It might be ridiculous, frivolous and even sentimental but as long as he was going to marry the woman he wanted his son, both of him, there at the wedding.

“Are your ready to go?” Bulma asked.

Vegeta nodded.

Bulma smiled. “It’ll be good to see him again.” She watched Vegeta climb into the time machine. “Oh and Vegeta? Tell me ‘hi’ for me, okay?”

 

* * *

  
After Vegeta had left Bulma went to deliver the last invitation to the last member Z-Fighters. She knocked quietly on Yamcha’s apartment door. Standing there on the landing, waiting for the door to open, reminded her of the day she’d come to tell Yamcha she was pregnant. “I couldn’t have handled that any worse if I’d tried,” Bulma muttered to herself. Then the door opened.

“Bulma? What are you doing here?” Yamcha asked.

Bulma didn’t look at him. If he still had feelings for her, if there was any hope in his eyes, she didn’t want to see it. “I wanted to tell you in person. Vegeta and I are getting married.”

“Oh,” Yamcha said. “What am I supposed to say now?”

“I don’t know,” Bulma said. “I’m sorry. I asked the Z-Fighters to come. I didn’t know if it would be better if I asked you or not. So I’m just going to say I would be happy to see you there, but if you don’t want to come I understand.”

Yamcha stood there holding on to the frame of his door. He closed his eyes. For a moment he imagined Vegeta leaving Bulma at the alter. He would swoop in to pick up the pieces of Bulma’s broken heart. She’d realize that they belonged together, that they always had. Then the ceremony would resume with him as the rightful groom. Then Yamcha remembered Vegeta’s reaction to Bulma’s accident during her pregnancy. He knew his fantasy was nothing more than a fantasy. He knew Vegeta would never abandon Bulma or his son.

“Sorry, I’ve got an out of town game that day,” Yamcha said.

Bulma nodded. She didn’t mention that she’d never told Yamcha the date of the wedding.

* * *

 

The only thing in Vegeta’s experience that came close to the reality of time travel was the Room of Space and Time. The place between time had an emptiness to it that made deep space feel like Metro-West at rush hour. The only good thing Vegeta could say about his trip to the alternate future was that it was short.

Vegeta climbed out of the time machine and stared at a Capsule Corps that wasn’t the one he was familiar with. The buildings were badly battered but the patches had a cheerfully defiant air to them. Capsule Corp and it’s inhabitants had withstood the storm. They were still there and they were rebuilding.

Vegeta didn’t sense his future brat’s ki in the immediate vicinity. He walked around the building to look for clues as to where the boy was and saw a woman painting over one of the patches on the building as she hummed to herself. The woman’s hair was greying, she dressed with more concern for practicality than style but Vegeta recognized her instantly.

When Bulma turned and saw Vegeta her knees collapsed beneath her. He waited but she made no move to get up, she just stared at him as if he were the only thing in the world.

“Has your brain gone soft in this time line?” Vegeta asked.

Bulma laughed and seemed to come back to herself. “Vegeta, you always say the sweetest things. No wonder I fell in love with you... Or maybe it was just your sexy body.”

Vegeta flushed. “You do have good taste,” he said. “I don’t suppose you know where your brat is?”

“He’s in Orange Star City working with the rebuilding crews,” Bulma said.

Vegeta nodded. He was about to take flight then he paused. “You, my you, wanted me to tell you hello,” he stated then took off.

Bulma leaned back against the wall and watched him until he wasn’t even a spec in the distance. “ ‘My you’ huh? I never would have imagined you admitting that,” she said to herself as she smiled broadly.

 

* * *

 

Vegeta almost failed to recognize the first large ki he sensed in Orange Star City. “I thought you were dead here,” he commented as he landed behind Gohan.

The tall, scared and battle hardened warrior turned around to face Vegeta. “I could say the same thing.”

Vegeta noted the empty sleeve flapping slightly in the breeze. He remembered Trunks telling him that Gohan had lost his arm while protecting Trunks from the Androids.

“You come from the other time line right?” Gohan asked.

Vegeta gave a short nod. “What about you?” he asked. “I was told the Dragon Balls were gone here.”

“Earth’s Dragon Balls were,” Gohan said. “The Namekian Dragon Balls remained. But when Bulma saw how we were fairing against the Androids she smashed every space ship we had and burned the plans. That way even if we lost the Androids wouldn’t have been able to spread their evil beyond the Earth. After Trunks defeated the Androids Bulma rebuilt her space ship.”

“I suppose you’re all back then,” Vegeta said.

A look of pain crossed Gohan’s face. “Even the Dragon Balls have limits,” he said. “Mass resurrection only works on people who have died within a year of the wish being made. For an individual resurrection you have ten years to make the wish. I was the only one they were able to save.”

Before Vegeta could say anything else Gohan vanished in a burst of speed. When he returned it was with a dark haired girl in his arms.

“Gohan! Put me down right now!” the girl exclaimed.

“Honey there’s someone you should meet,” Gohan said. “Videl, Vegeta. Vegeta, Videl. He’s from the other time line.”

Even Vegeta recognized that Gohan didn’t want to talk about the dead anymore.

Videl and Vegeta regarded one another curiously.

“You’re Satan’s daughter,” Vegeta stated.

Videl nodded. “You know about Dad in your time line?” she asked in surprise. “I know he wasn’t much of a fighter compared with you guys.” She smiled wistfully. “But he always talked a good game. He kept the Androids focused on him long enough for half the city to evacuate, he was a real hero in the end.”

As Videl spoke Trunks landed near them. “Dad?” he asked. “Why are you here? Did something happen?”

“Your mother says I can’t have a toddler as a best man, so I’m borrowing you,” Vegeta stated.

Trunks’ eyes widened in shock. For several seconds he couldn’t seem to find his voice then he smiled brilliantly. “You and Mother are getting married? That’s great!”

“What’s the big deal?” Videl whispered to Gohan. “It never seemed to bother Trunks that his parents weren’t into marriage.”

“According to Trunks, in the other time line his parents were barely speaking the last time he saw them,” Gohan whispered back.

“Ah,” Videl nodded.

“Oh man, I can’t wait to tell Mom!” Trunks exclaimed. “This is great! We’ll have to have everyone over! They’d love to see you. I gotta go tell Mom!”

Vegeta looked bewildered as Trunks rocketed off in the direction of Capsule Corp.

“We’re a little vicarious about your time line,” Gohan explained quietly. “Videl and I have things to finish up here but tell Bulma we’ll be by for dinner, along with everyone else.”

* * *

 

Vegeta and Trunks spent the afternoon sparring and getting reacquainted. Bulma climbed up on the roof and lay back to watch them and daydream about what might have been. Eventually Bulma went inside to start dinner but Vegeta and Trunks were there to see Gohan and Videl fly up together.

“Give her another year and she’ll be stronger than Kuririn was when we fought Cell,” Trunks told Vegeta. “Videl is determined to fight if we ever get attacked again, a lot of people are. We spent twenty years running and hiding because of the Androids. Master Roshi has more students than he knows what to do with. He’s even got Chichi and Gyumao teaching the lower levels. Gohan and I train anyone who is able to go past what Roshi’s level. Videl’s the best we’ve seen so far.”

Vegeta let his ki sense reach out as far as it could. This earth was empty in comparison to the one he knew but the candles that were left all seemed determined to turn themselves into bonfires.

Dende arrived soon after Gohan and Videl. “After we heard what happened I came here to act as the planet’s Kami,” he explained.

“I asked him to,” Bulma said. “The Dragon Balls brought us all together. It seemed wrong that they were going to be gone forever.”

Chichi, Gyumao, Master Roshi, Oolong and Puar arrived in a bunch. Instead of mostly ignoring or avoiding Vegeta as they would have in his time line they peppered him with questions. After he got over the shock and realized they weren’t going to leave him alone without getting answers, Vegeta grudgingly relayed a little bit about everyone in his world.

A mention of Kakarrot’s second brat left Chichi gazing off into the distance with a sad smile. She and Gyumao left a short while later.

“Goku and Chichi were thinking about a second child before he got sick,” Bulma explained quietly. “It just didn’t happen here.”

“Trunks has told us all, several times, that you’re tying the knot,” Oolong said. “Anyone else getting a ball and chain?”

Trunks glared at the pig. Bulma and Videl resorted to throwing things until Oolong hid behind Gohan.

“I would have phrased it differently,” Bulma said, “but that doesn’t mean I’m not awaiting the answer with baited breath. Do any of the guys have a new girlfriend?”

Vegeta rolled his eyes.

“Come on,” Bulma cajoled.

Vegeta would have refused his Bulma simply for the fun of starting a quarrel with her, but his Bulma didn’t have a core of sadness running through her.

“Baldy and the blond toaster,” Vegeta sighed in defeat.

“Kuririn and 18?” Puar exclaimed. Her high, piping voice was filled with disbelief.

“I told you, their Androids were different,” Trunks said.

“You didn’t say HOW different,” Puar accused.

Every time Vegeta tried to drift to his normal place on the outskirts of the gather the others chased after him with more questions. Even after his temper wore thin and he raised his ki into the visible range to warn them off their eyes still followed him.

Gohan ignored the warning and plopped down beside Vegeta. “They don’t mean to stare,” he said. He shook his head. “They might be staring worse now than when I came back.” Gohan nodded toward his empty sleeve. “I don’t look like I stepped out of the good old days,” he explained.

“They don’t remember who I am,” Vegeta said.

Gohan nodded. “Probably not. You’re the ghost of someone who died fighting along side us a long time ago. It’s hard to remember that you used to scare us all silly. I got too used to having you at my back in a fight.”

“Hn,” Vegeta snorted. His eyes were full of disbelief.

Gohan gave Vegeta a thin, brittle smile. “We fought together for two weeks solid. Two weeks and fourteen senzu beans.”

“You and he were trying to force yourselves to ascend,” Vegeta analyzed.

Gohan nodded shortly. He looked haunted. “Piccolo-san died before we had any clue of what we were facing,” he said. “First Dad got sick and then Piccolo was just gone. We were all in shock. I kept thinking everything would be okay if Dad were there, Dad always came through when things looked their worst.”

“You were the only one who was in any shape to mount a defense and naturally you were fixated on becoming a Super Saiyan. You couldn’t imagine anything could stand against us if we ascended. You told the others to back off because they didn’t gain anything by taking a beating and you didn’t want to waste the senzu beans.” Gohan gave Vegeta a sardonic grin. “If the others would have agreed to it you would have told me to stand down too.”

Vegeta returned Gohan’s smile with a shrug. It only made sense.

“When we started running low on senzu beans we tried to go longer without using them. We were hoping more damage would equate to a bigger power boost. The last two beans I ate you forced down my throat after I was too far gone to take one myself. I did the same for you. After that I can’t imagine going back to being afraid of you.”

“Circumstances change and I’m not him,” Vegeta muttered.

Gohan shrugged. “No, you actually admitted to being in love with Bulma.”

Later that night Vegeta found himself wandering restlessly through Capsule Corps’ battered shell. Having people look at him and see another man’s ghost was a strange experience. He’d never seen the teenage and infant Trunks as being the same person. He recognized them both as his sons but they were completely distinct in his mind. These people saw him as one and the same with the Vegeta who had died.

Even so, Vegeta knew he fit in here on this battle scared world better than he ever would on the world he’d come from. Like him, these people were survivors. Like him, they’d been helpless while their world was torn apart.

Vegeta glanced outside and saw he wasn’t the only ghost haunting Capsule Corp that night. Bulma was standing beneath his favorite tree staring down at something. He walked outside. As he came up behind her he saw that she was transfixed by a stone with his name on it.

“What is that?” Vegeta asked.

Bulma didn’t startle and Vegeta wondered if she’d known he was there or if it was just that she was calmer than his Bulma. “It’s a grave. I come here to remember.” She looked at him and smiled. “I’m glad you and I aren’t stubborn idiots in every time line.”

Bulma looked off into the distant past. “Trunks told us Goku didn’t get sick until much later in your time line. I couldn’t tell Trunks but when I sent him into the past I believe that saving your time line would come at the cost of my son not being born. I’ve often wondered how you and I came together there. ”

“Here Goku got sick two years before the Androids came. Vegeta, my Vegeta threw a temper tantrum when he realized he wasn’t going to get a rematch against Goku. Then he volunteered to be my comparison subject while I looked for a cure. With Goku’s complete lack of medical records there would have been no chance of finding a cure without a healthy Saiyan to check his condition against.”

Vegeta considered it and realized he probably would have done the same thing. If for no other reason than to have the chance to prove his superiority over the third class moron.

“My Vegeta and I spent a lot of time together that year. He was the one I talked to, the one who understood how it felt to be fighting a long, losing battle. He was the only one I wasn’t bull-shitting in those days. But I couldn’t admit I was falling in love, not when my best friend was dying. Certainly not with a guy who swore up and down that his main goal in life was killing said best friend... Even though he was doing everything he could to help me save Goku.”

“Vegeta was the one who was there the night I found a cure that would have saved Goku if we’d had it when he first got sick. Just sex we said. Just something to take the edge off the frustration. Trunks was born eight days before Goku died. Six months later the Androids came.”

“My Vegeta and Gohan tried to ascend but you ran out of senzu beans before either of you managed it. Once the beans were gone Gohan went back to Mount Paoz and Vegeta came back here to lay low until the next crop of beans had matured. The plan was to keep going like that until one of you managed to become a Super Saiyan but they tracked you- I mean my Vegeta down first. When the Androids attacked Capsule Corp Vegeta ordered my parents and I to take Trunks and hide.”

Vegeta nodded. It was oddly reassuring to hear that his other self hadn’t had to watch his son die before he got his priorities straightened out.

“At first we heard the fighting as we worked our way deeper into the building. Then everything went still and I knew.” Bulma shivered violently. She wrapped her arms around herself. The words tumbled out of her as if it were beyond her control to keep them inside any longer. “The Androids came and dragged us all outside. Vegeta was on the ground. So much blood. ‘What are they to you?’” unconsciously Bulma mimicked the Androids’ cold tones. “ ‘You’re not the one who gets all indignant over humans.’ He hit Dad and Mom went nuts, she attacked them. They laughed at her, they were playing with her. Trunks started screaming.” Tears were streaming down Bulma’s face.

_The baby was screaming in fury. He was struggling against her to get free, to attack their tormentors. Her father’s body lay a few feet away. Bulma’s gaze fixated on his broken glasses which lay a few inches from his crushed skull._

_“Oops, I think I broke her.” The female Android’s voice held cool amusement as it dropped her mother’s body to the ground._

_“I’ll kill you,” Vegeta grated. Both Androids paused to watch Vegeta curiously. He bared bloody teeth at them and struggled to stand. He forced himself to ignore that he’d practically been gutted in the earlier fight._

_Trunks was a year and a half old and Bulma prayed that he was still too young to retain any memory of this night. Of his grandparents’ murders or of his father trying to shove a rope of intestine back through the gapping hole in his stomach. It wasn’t until the male Android yanked Trunks out of her arms that it occurred to Bulma that Trunks might not survive the night._

_“Look at it,” the male laughed. “It wants to fight us.”_

_“Maybe we should keep it for a pet,” the female suggested._

_An intense burst of light threw the scene into sharp relief. Vegeta was burning with power. Pale gold hair, eyes like burning ice, Vegeta had ascended. He snarled at the Androids. When his guts started spilling back out of him he simply finished the job of tearing them out so they wouldn’t get in his way when he fought._

_Before the Androids realized what was happening Vegeta took Trunks back from them and tossed the boy to Bulma. Then he went on the offensive._

_“What’s gotten into him?” the female Android wondered as she found herself being forced back by a man she’d believed to be more dead than alive._

_Vegeta pinned her against the curving slope of the main Capsule Corp building._

_“Hey! You’re getting my clothes all bloody,” 18 protested and tried to throw him off her._

_Vegeta pounded her through the wall and pinned her against the foundation. His body knew it was already dead and channeled everything into the fight. His powers continued to rise, blue energy discharges danced over his skin._

_“17! Get him off me!” 18 cried. Her eyes widened with shock and fear._

_17 rolled his eyes. “What is with you 18? It’s just Vegeta,” he said boredly. He aimed a kick at the Saiyan’s side._

_Vegeta caught 17's foot before it could connect and tossed the Android away. He went after his new attacker and 18 took the chance to retreat. “I don’t know what that is but it’s not Vegeta,” she said._

_17 found himself agreeing as he was driven back by a fighter who was long past feeling pain or caring about damage. “Maybe we should come back later,” 17 suggested._

_The Androids took flight. Vegeta chased after them but as he cleared the building the glowing nimbus of ki surrounding him went out like a candle in a hurricane. He tumbled out of the sky._

“He asked if Trunks and I were alright,” Bulma said. “He died before I could tell him I loved him.”

It was disconcerting to hear Bulma talk about the turning point between them and not have them match his memories, Vegeta thought. He remembered Bulma reaching out to bridge the gap between them. In this world life had narrowed that gap. And Vegeta realized he didn’t like that. Watching this world being tortured by the Androids, her family’s murders, losing Kakarrot to a disease that she hadn’t been able to cure had given this Bulma an understanding of what Vegeta-sai and Freiza had done to him but Vegeta didn’t want her, Trunks or even Gohan to understand, not like this.

The light from the house reflected off of the tears on Bulma’s face. Tentatively Vegeta put his hand on Bulma’s shoulder. “It doesn’t matter- The word doesn’t matter. I looked the term ‘love’ up when the woman started using it.” Vegeta glanced away. “It was only comprehensible in context, you were the only context I had.”

Bulma gave him a watery smile. She was amazed by his effort to offer her comfort even when the effort made him uncomfortable. She decided to change the subject. “You spoke our language so well we’d always forget that you never understood colloquial expressions.”

“Language chip,” Vegeta explained. “Most space-faring races have something that translates for them.”

“But it doesn’t help with phrases that depend on a cultural context,” Bulma said.

“Your expressions clearly demonstrate the depth of human inanity,” Vegeta replied.

“We’re hard on you aren’t we Vegeta?” Bulma said with mock sympathy.

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Oh of course not.”

Bantering with this woman left Vegeta with a hollow ache. Reflexively he searched for his Bulma’s ki signature and grimaced when he didn’t find it.

Bulma sighed. “I still miss him. Better than twenty years and I still miss him. In spite of everything.” She reached out to touch the stone tenderly. “We were falling apart after Goku died. We fought constantly, viciously, nothing like our old, fun quarrels. With Goku gone my Vegeta had no reason to stay, at least none that he’d admit to. I was furious and scared to death that he was going to leave. I think he was confused and consequently furious because he didn’t know why he hadn’t left. Neither one of us was willing to be the first one to admit to how we felt about each other. Neither of us was willing to hope we could have a future together. And then it was too late.”

Bulma turned to Vegeta. She caught his hands and stared intently into his eyes. “Promise me something Vegeta? Promise me you’ll learn how to be happy, to trust that good things can happen. We deserve a happily ever after some where.” 


	13. Epilogue: Wedding Day

Mirai-Bulma and Vegeta stood before her Vegeta’s grave in silence for a time. Bulma saw a flicker of concern in Vegeta’s eyes. There was a hint of frustration in his stance. Another person might have asked ‘Are you okay?’ or ‘Is there anything I can do?’ even though they both knew he couldn’t. Vegeta settled on a gruff “I shouldn’t have come here.”

“You’re right,” Bulma said. She patted him on the shoulder. “I’m not normally this weepy. But I’m glad you came. You stir up the good memories too. I don’t want to forget him.”

“We’ll go back tomorrow,” Vegeta stated. “The boy will be back in a few days.”

“Then I suppose you’d best get some sleep,” Bulma replied. She knew it was best that he not stay for too long. As Gohan had said they were vicarious about the time-line they’d saved. It wasn’t good for them to spend too much time thinking about how things were better somewhere else. They had their own world to rebuild.

And Bulma wasn’t sure how long she could simply be happy that things were working out between the other Bulma and the Vegeta who stood beside her. There was a part of her that was tempted to ask him to stay in this world. If she did ask Bulma wasn’t sure what would be worse: the disappointment if he said no or the guilt if he said yes. So she bit her tongue and watched him walk away.

* * *

 

First thing the next morning Vegeta and Trunks got in their time ship and undertook the journey back to the other time-line.

Bulma was waiting with the toddler Trunks when they arrived.

Trunks’ eyes widened when he saw his younger self. “It’s really only been five months for you guys? Man, I grow fast.”

Bulma giggled. “I should make you babysit. He’s always up to something, I bet your mom would see that as karmic justice, huh Trunks?”

“I’m Trunks!” the baby protested.

“Yes you are,” Bulma laughed. “But he’s Trunks too.”

Trunks-chan was just working himself up to a good pout when he saw Vegeta climb out of the time machine.

“Dada!” Trunks shouted. He leapt out of his mother’s arms to throw himself at Vegeta.

Vegeta caught the boy by the back of his shirt and held him up at arm’s length. “What do you want brat?” he asked.

Trunks giggled. After a moment’s thought he dug in his pockets and produced a handful of feathers. “Trunks catch birdie,” he informed Vegeta proudly.

Vegeta accepted the feathers solemnly but Mirai-Trunks thought he could see traces of amusement in the older Saiyan’s eyes.

“So where is everyone?” Mirai-Trunks asked.

“We’re having a bar-barque here tonight,” Bulma said with a mischievous grin. “No one knows you’re coming yet. Oh and don’t freak out when you see Android 18, she’s good now and she’ll be here as Kuririn’s date.”

“Yeah, Dad told us they were seeing each other.”

Bulma’s eyes widened. “Sharing gossip? Vegeta? Maybe you can be civilized after all,” she teased.

“Don’t insult me, woman,” Vegeta ordered.

“Or you’ll what?” Bulma challenged.

Various things he would like to do with Bulma crossed Vegeta’s mind. A dusky flush colored his cheeks. “Later,” he muttered.

Bulma grinned. “Looking forward to it.” Her hand rested lingeringly on Vegeta’s chest for a moment before she reclaimed Trunks-chan.

The older version of Bulma and Vegeta’s son realized what his parents were talking about and flushed bright red. “So when’s this bar-barque?” he asked in an overly cheery voice.

“I told everyone to show up around six,” Bulma said. She stretched up on tip-toes to ruffle Trunk’s hair affectionately. “Now I’ve got to put someone down for a nap or he’ll be cranky tonight. So if you two are going to spar it has to be in the GR or away from the house okay?”

“GR?” Vegeta suggested and Trunks nodded.

“You are going to be such a handsome boy when you get a little older,” Bulma sighed to Trunks-chan as she watched her future-son and soon-to-be-husband walk away.

* * *

 

When Kuririn and 18 arrived at Capsule Corp that night the party was already in full swing.

“Trunks-kun, I though that was you!” Kuririn exclaimed happily as he pounded the lavender-haired teen on the back. “I didn’t know you could come back to visit!”

“Mother arranged it,” Trunks said.

“That’s great! You know 18 right?”

Trunks smiled. “I’m going to pretend I don’t,” he replied. “18-san was it? A pleasure to meet you. I’m Trunks Briefs.”

18 rolled her eyes but shook Trunks’ offered hand. “Hello Trunks,” she said.

A rabbit dashed by with Trunks-chan in hot pursuit. The rabbit darted under a line of chairs. Trunks jumped on top of them and continued the chase. Both rabbit and boy went under the table. The rabbit zigzagged through the crowd. Trunks did his best to follow but he couldn’t quite match the rabbit’s agility. He bounced off various people’s legs like a hyper-charged pinball until he crashed into Lunch. The slight, dark-haired woman fell over backwards with a surprised exclamation. She knocked a table over on her way down. A pepper shaker flew into the air.

“Hit the deck!” Oolong shouted.

“A-a-choo!” The dark-haired woman disappeared. A blonde with a tommy-gun took her place. “Where the hell am I!” she exclaimed. She fired a short burst in the air to punctuate her statement.

Trunks-chan started wailing. And the blonde realized that there was an irrate Saiyan holding the barrel of her gun. Launch laughed nervously and put her hands behind her back as if she’d never even seen a gun before, much less fired one. “How’d that thing get there?” she asked innocently.

Vegeta didn’t say anything.

“Hey kid, sorry I scared ya,” Launch said to Trunks-chan.

The little boy sniffled. He grabbed the back of Vegeta’s pant leg tightly and peered out at the strange woman from behind his father’s leg. “Not kid. Not scared.” he declared sulkily.

Vegeta tossed the gun skyward. In a few seconds it had vanished into the stratosphere. He turned around and walked back toward the tree where he and Piccolo had been companionably ignoring each other.

Trunks followed Vegeta for a short ways then noticed Gohan and Dende. “G’han!” Trunks shouted happily. He grabbed the older boy’s hand then pulled himself up to perch on Gohan’s shoulders. He wrapped his arms and legs tightly around Gohan’s head. “I caughted you!”

“You did,” Gohan agreed as he patiently rearranged Trunks so that he wasn’t being strangled by the younger boy.

Trunks peered curiously at Dende.

“Trunks, this is Dende. Dende, Trunks,” Gohan said.

“Hi!” Trunks exclaimed. He leaned over to talk to Gohan. “Denden green!” he informed Gohan.

“Be polite,” Gohan admonished gently.

Trunks blew a raspberry at Gohan. Then he jumped back to the ground. “Denden green. Grass green. Dinosa green. Froggy green. Sky blue. Kiki black. Doggy brown...” Trunks wandered off happily naming the colors of everything he saw.

“So where’s your little brother?” Dende asked Gohan.

Gohan shrugged. “Mom said it’d be too much excitement for him, what with the wedding tomorrow. So they stayed home tonight.”

After dinner was eaten the party started winding down.

“Mom, could you keep an eye on Trunks-chan?” Bulma asked. She glanced around evasively. “There’s something I need to take care of.”

Bunny noticed Vegeta watching Bulma intently and smiled mischievously. “Shame, shame daughter. Neglecting your guests.”

Bulma smiled sappily. “I think he missed me while he was gone.”

As the sun began setting Gohan gulped. “How’d it get so late? I better get home before Mom starts worrying.”

“Oh come on, stay for the bachelor party,” Oolong invited.

Gohan looked doubtful. “I guess I could call my mom and ask if it’s okay,” he said reluctantly.

While Gohan went inside to call Roshi and Oolong gathered up the other guys.

Trunks paled. “Someone please tell me that Roshi and Oolong didn’t plan the bachelor party,” he begged.

“What’d you expect?” Kuririn asked.

Trunks groaned. “I remember what they did when Gohan got married. Gohan and I both had to take senzu beans before we were in any shape to participate in the wedding.”

“What? Saiyans can’t hold their liquor?” Yajirobi asked.

Trunks flushed.

Yajirobi laughed. “That’s it ain’t it? Well it’s good to know there’s something you guys can’t do.”

“Hey, where’s Vegeta?” Oolong asked. “Oh well, I guess we can go without him.”

“No we can’t,” Kuririn argued. “He’s the groom, we can’t have a bachelor party without the groom.”

Piccolo and Mr. Popo eyed Roshi and Oolong doubtfully. “Vegeta seems to have picked an opportune time to vanish,” Mr. Popo said softly. Piccolo nodded in agreement.

Gohan came back outside with a look of polite regret on his face. “Mom says I can’t come,” he relayed. He turned to Dende. “She says you shouldn’t go either, but we can have a sleep over instead.”

Dende started to grin and nod his agreement.

“That sounds like a very good idea,” Mr. Popo said. He made to hustle the young kami off and Dende’s expression turned slightly suspicious.

Piccolo rested his hand on Gohan’s shoulder. “Mr. Popo and I will escort the boys back to Mt. Paouz,” he stated.

“Like rats off a sinking ship,” Trunks muttered under his breath as the foursome took off.

18 cocked her head to the side. “I think I’ll stay. Train wrecks are always amusing to watch.”

“No chicks, sweetcheeks,” Oolong stated. “Not unless they’re scantily clad and jumping out of a cake.”

18 picked him up by the throat. “What did you call me?” she asked dangerously.

“Trunks! Save me!” Oolong squeaked. “The Android’s attacking me!”

Trunks faked an apologetic look. “Sorry, the women I know back home taught me never to get between a justifiably ticked off lady and the target of her ire,” he said.

“Honey, maybe you should let me have him,” Kuririn suggested as Oolong started turning blue.

“Ah. You wish to do the guy thing and defend my honor.” 18 dropped Oolong and stepped back expectantly.

Oolong coughed. “Thank you Kuririn. Thank - eek!!” Oolong squawked as Kuririn picked him up by the scruff of the neck then drop kicked him. “Kuririn, you traitor!” Oolong shouted as he sailed over the garden wall.

Kuririn turned back to 18. “I hate to say it, but he’s right about this being a guys only thing. Why don’t you and Launch take Bulma out? Do a girls only thing.”

18 turned to Launch. “What sort of thing would we do?” she asked.

Lauched eyed 18 speculatively. “I saw Bulma sneaking off earlier.” She snickered. “Wanna knock over a bank?”

“Sounds like old times,” 18 said. She kissed Kuririn on the cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said.

Kuririn groaned as he watched the two blondes stroll off. “Me and my big mouth.

Several minutes later Oolong walked back through the gate. “You guys haven’t found Vegeta yet?” he asked. He eyed Trunks speculatively. “As the best man, it’s your job to get the groom to the bachelor party,” he declared.

“I don’t think this is such a good idea, especially not after the last time,” Trunks said. “Maybe we should all just call it a night.”

“Come on Trunks! All you gotta do is persuade Vegeta to come,” Oolong cajoled. “You wouldn’t hold our counterpart’s actions against us would ya? I mean I’m not blaming you for the squirt-version ralphing on me.”

“It’s tradition Trunks,” Kuririn added. “I swear I won’t let them do anything too bad.”

“Ever since 18 kissed him he’s been all for makin’ friends with ex-psychos,” Oolong said resentfully remembering his earlier involuntary flight.

“You’re just jealous because I’ve got a girlfriend,” Kuririn said.

“I liked Marron better,” Roshi commented.

“Only because she didn’t hurt you when you tried to peep on her.” Kuririn said.

Trunks smiled at Kuririn, he was glad that Vegeta’s relationship with at least a few of the other Z-fighters was becoming friendlier. “I’ll go see if Vegeta will come,” he said.

Absently Trunks let his father’s ki lead him to Vegeta. “Hey Dad-“ he began as he opened the door. Then he clapped his hands over his eyes.

“Trunks! Whatever it is, now is not a good time!” Bulma exclaimed as she grabbed for a sheet to cover herself with.

“I am so sorry!” Trunks squeaked. “You can’t believe how sorry I am.”

“Scram brat,” Vegeta ordered.

Trunks rushed to shut the door then hurried back to the group in the backyard. “Sorry,” he said. “Dad can’t come. He and Mom are busy.” As he spoke Trunks’ blush renewed itself.

“What could be more important than a party?” Oolong asked.

While most of the Z-Fighters rolled their eyes at Oolong applying his priorities to Vegeta Yajirobi watched Trunks’ expression and laughed. “Your parents are having sex huh?”

Trunks cringed.

“So did you get a good look at Bulma?” Roshi remarked.

Trunks flushed scarlet. “She’s my mother!”

“Oops, my bad,” Roshi said. “But she is hot. And not nearly as violent as 18. Once she let me puff-puff.” Roshi smiled blissfully.

Trunks groaned. “I don’t want to hear this.”

“Eh, sorry to burst your bubble old man,” Oolong said. “But Bulma blackmailed me into standing in for her during that little exchange.”

“Ugh! I didn’t wash my face for a week after that!” Roshi complained.

“Thank you Kami,” Trunks muttered.

//Oh don’t thank me,// A voice said inside his head. //I wasn’t Kami back then. And I don’t think my predecessor got too involved in that sort of thing.//

//Dende, what are you doing?// Trunks asked.

//Well since everyone was so determined to not let me come, I figured it had to be something neat. So I’m eves-dropping,// Dende explained. //Honestly I think Gohan and I are going to have a better time than you guys.//

//I wouldn’t argue.// Trunks thought.

//Yeah, Chichi-san is even going to let us play video games. So I’ll just leave you to your party while we have fun.//

//Thanks a lot Dende. And tell Piccolo and Mr. Popo I said that they’re both a couple of spineless cowards to abandon me like this.//

* * *

 

A breathless little moan escaped Bulma’s lips as Vegeta touched her. He grinned. He could feel her heart beating wildly, like a bird beating it’s wings against the bars of a cage. Her breath came in desperate little gasps and moans. Where ever he touched her Bulma’s ki surged erratically. He loved this, she was completely open to him, completely lost in her need for him.

He thrust within her and she keened. Her eyes rolled back, her body shook. His head dropped against her shoulder as a guttural growl escaped him.

For a moment he allowed his weight to rest on her. But even with his ki repressed to minimize the strength differential between them Saiyan muscles and bones were much more dense than a human’s. He rolled them over before Bulma’s brain could register that she couldn’t breath with him on top of her. She fitted herself against his side, not willing to give up the closeness between them yet.

Carefully Vegeta brushed a lock of Bulma’s hair back behind her ear. Her skin was moist with sweat and flushed with exertion. She nuzzled his shoulder tiredly. There was a touch of self-mockery in Vegeta’s expression as he strove to ignore the part of his mind that was triumphantly chanting “Mine! Mine! Mine!”

It was always such a delicate dance between them. Sometimes it surprised him how much he enjoyed it. How much he enjoyed having her give herself to him, her complete trust in both his ability and desire to avoid harming her. And sometimes it was horrifying to realize anew how fragile she was, because she was the lifeline he clung to when he felt like his mind was coming apart.

Vegeta sighed as he slipped into sleep. It was a pleasurable trap he’d fallen into but the knowledge that he needed her was still disconcerting.

* * *

 

Vegeta sat on a catwalk. Far beneath his dangling feet the Earth spun peacefully in it’s orbit.

He heard someone walk up behind him.

“Hey squirt. Long time no see.”

“Radditz, when I was twelve I told you if you ever called me that again I’d fashion a noose from your entrails and use it to hang you,” Vegeta stated as the other Saiyan sat down beside him. “I haven’t had a changed of heart.”

“I’m dead and in hell. You’ll have to try harder if you want to scare me,” Radditz said with a laugh. “So you finally found a girl. I told you you’d figure out the appeal someday.”

Vegeta stared at the other Saiyan oddly, it was as if he were talking to the old Radditz, the sane, unbroken one who’d died at eighteen. It was as if the last twenty-five years hadn’t happened for Radditz. And Vegeta realized that he had to be dreaming.

Vegeta snorted. “If I’d known that she’d get under my defense I don’t know that I would have slept with her that first time.”

“Then you’re a fool,” Radditz said.

“It worked out so well for you,” Vegeta said sarcastically. “Dead and in hell, remember?”

“Hard to forget.” Radditz shrugged. “At least I was alive before I died. But you’re the talented one. You only gave living a shot after you died.”

“Have I mentioned that you’re a moron, lately?”

“I saw Appura,” Radditz commented. “Clever little gutter snipe that she is, she manages to get where she isn’t supposed to be and comes to see me. Aside from being dead she’s doing pretty well.” He smiled to himself. “She missed me. I know you haven’t given fortune a hostage in over thirty years, but trust me Vegeta-ouji, it’s worth it.”

“And I thought it was Kakarrot who was the sentimental moron,” Vegeta growled. “It’s worth it? I snapped her neck and you were destroyed. You say it’s worth it? To leave yourself that vulnerable?”

“Yeah. Better that than making yourself frozen inside. Locking everything away so that you don’t even remember how to feel. So that you get knocked flat when that dam in your brain finally can’t hold anymore and you can’t pretend you’re untouchable anymore,” Radditz snapped back. “There’s more to feeling than feeling bad. You’d know that if you weren’t so damn scared to take a chance.”

Vegeta glared angrily at him.

Radditz watched the Earth spinning beneath them for a time. “We were in a bad place Vegeta-ouji. Trying to build a life worth living in that hell... There wasn’t much of a chance of it working out. This world’s nice enough. You’ve got a pretty determined group to help keep it that way. You’ve got this Bulma to keep finding ways to help you get stronger. You’ve got a shot here Vegeta. Take care of her and the boy. It doesn’t have to end badly.”

 

* * *

 

Vegeta woke up on the morning of his wedding with Radditz’s advice echoing in his ears.

‘Hn, just like that third class moron,’ Vegeta thought to himself. ‘Wasting effort to give advice on a matter that’s already been decided.’

The morning quickly descended into chaos. Breakfast with a toddler was always an adventure, adding in two adult Saiyan appetites only made life more interesting.

It seemed like there are a hundred last minute details that still needed to be taken care of and there was a photographer getting underfoot the whole time. A photographer whom Bulma had specifically requested that Vegeta be nice to. Vegeta mostly ignored the man. Trunks gave in after a few minutes and did the begging and pleading required to get minium co-operation from his father for a few wedding pictures.

The photographer looked unnaturally happy when he left to take pictures of Bulma and the other members of the wedding party.

“Would you please pace or something?” Mirai-Trunks asked as he and Vegeta waited for the wedding to begin. “I’m the best man, you’re the groom. I’m not supposed to be the nervous one.”

Vegeta regarded the strip of cloth he was trying to tie around his neck with moderate distaste. He’d actually had to argue that he preferred to wear human clothes for this thing, he wondered if it were a further sign of insanity.

In his mind formal clothes meant armor embossed with the Saiyan royal crest and the cape. The armor was too closely associated with his time under Frieza. And as for the royal crest... He was in the process of swearing that his only off-spring would be the children of an alien woman of no particular acclaim as a warrior. His son was Trunks, not Vegeta XVI, the boy’s tail had been removed at birth and Vegeta had every intention of sheltering his son to a degree that would have outraged his people if they had lived to see it. He was choosing this woman and a peaceful life on a backwater planet over doing anything further for his people. Wearing the Saiyan royal crest while he swore to turn his back on his culture lacked appeal.

Or at least it had until he realized how annoying Earther formal clothes could be. It hadn’t been so bad when Bulma had taken care of this neck tying thing. How was the damn thing supposed to go?

“Aren’t you nervous at all?” Trunks demanded fretfully. “What if someone attacks us during the ceremony?”

Vegeta smirked at the thought. “If someone is so foolish then I will defeat them. The woman will wait until I’m done.” He thought of the other Bulma still waiting by his grave even after twenty years and the smirk slipped off his face. That stirred up a conflicting tangle of emotions Vegeta couldn’t name much less deal with.

Trunks saw the uncertain expression on Vegeta’s face and panicked completely. “You’re not having second thoughts now!” he exclaimed. He grabbed Vegeta by the shoulders and shook him.

Vegeta broke Trunks’ grip and glared at him until Trunks remembered himself. “I do not change my mind.” Vegeta stated coldly. “This ceremony is simply human nonsense to which I have agreed because it clarifies that the woman is mine.”

Vegeta picked the bow tie apart and held it up irritably. “Now tell me how I work this thing,” he ordered.

Trunks shrugged helplessly. “I’ve never actually tied one for myself. I had Grandma fix mine for me earlier.”

“Then go get the woman.”

“Right! Good idea.” Trunks started out then froze. “No. You can’t see Mother before the wedding. It’s bad luck!”

He dithered in the door way until Vegeta demanded. “Brat, what the hell is wrong with you today?”

“If you’d get nervous I wouldn’t have to!” Trunks exclaimed. “I’ll go find one of the other girls. Just wait here.”

* * *

 

At the age of three weeks Goten was sitting up and working on his crawling skills. Now that he was mobile he had become much more interesting in Trunks’ eyes.

Trunks gave up on trying to convince his grandmother that he really didn’t have to wear the funny clothes she’d forced upon him and turned his attention to getting acquainted with the younger boy.

Chichi was holding Goten. Trunks scowled, ‘Why did big people always put the things he wanted out of his reach?’ Mentally Trunks shrugged, his Dada had shown him how to deal with that. Trunks glanced around looking for a way to get to Goten. He decided that he was too old to beg to be upped anymore. After all he was quite capable of upping himself. He started by climbing on the hard, rounded person.

“Careful up there!” Turtle cried. “My shell’s slippery.

Trunks leapt from the top of Turtle’s shell to Gohan. Gohan obligingly held still while Trunks scrambled up onto his shoulders.

The lavender haired boy peered curiously at Goten. “Hi!” he declared.

“Yahh!” Goten shouted and waved his arms.

Trunks nodded. “I’m Trunks.”

Goten laughed.

Trunks noticed that there were a lot of people who he hadn’t told about him being Trunks yet so he jumped down from Gohan’s shoulders and went to introduce himself.

He walked up to Roshi and tugged on his pant leg. “I’m Trunks!” he declared.

“Hello there Trunks. I’m Master Roshi, the Turtle Hermit,” Roshi replied.

“Hi!” Trunks said. Then he climbed on a chair and turned to 18. “I’m Trunks!” He made a grab for her hair. “Pretty!”

“He’s cute,” 18 decided. She glanced at Kuririn. “I might want one someday.”

Kuririn fainted.

“He fall down,” Trunks announced. He giggled and jumped on Kuririn. The breath exploded out of Kuririn as the small demi-Saiyan landed on his stomach. “You fall down!”

“Rub it in why doncha kid,” Kuririn said as he turned red.

Trunks scowled. “Not ‘kid’! I’m Trunks!”

Everyone laughed.

Mirai-Trunks ran in. “Who knows how to do a bow tie?” he exclaimed.

“Easy Trunks,” Kuririn said.

“I’ve got it,” Bunny said. “Just relax Trunks.”

“I’m Trunks!” the toddler shouted. “Me, not him!”

Mirai-Trunks picked up his younger counterpart and grinned. “Nope, I’m Trunks, you’re Brat,” he said. He carefully mimicked Vegeta’s particular inflection.

Trunks thought about it for a moment then nodded. “Okay.”

Kuririn shook his head. “ ‘Kid’ he complains about but ‘Brat’ is just fine?”

“It will be interesting for Vegeta once Trunks gets old enough to understand what brat means,” Gohan commented.

 

* * *

 

Dr. Briefs caught Bulma’s hand before she could start playing with her hair. “Your mother would kill me if I let you mess that up before the wedding even began,” he said with gentle amusement.

“Daddy, are you really okay with this?” Bulma asked quietly.

“Are you sure?” Dr. Briefs replied.

“Yes,” Bulma said firmly. “It’s just Vegeta’s not exactly...”

“If you’re sure, I’m sure,” Dr. Briefs said. “Vegeta isn’t exactly the sort of young man I expected you bring home... But you love him and his own way I think he loves you too. Being with him seems to satisfy your desire for adventure. And I remember how you were during the months when he was gone. I’m glad he came back. He’s allowed himself to depend on you so I trust him to look out for your well-being. I’ve watched him with Trunks, he’s terribly awkward with the boy but he seems to want what’s best for his son. The two of you bring out the best in each other.”

“Thanks Daddy,” Bulma said softly. “It means the world to me that you approve.”

Dr. Briefs smiled and kissed Bulma on the forehead then lowered her veil into place. “I think that’s our cue,” he said and he offered her his arm.

As Bulma started the walk down the aisle her eyes locked with Vegeta’s and there was nothing else in the world except for him. She smiled and blinked back tears when her father placed her hand in Vegeta’s. For the most part she completely missed what Dende was saying.

“If any can show just cause why these two should not be joined, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Vegeta glared venomously at Dende, then he turned his challenging gaze on the guests.

“It’s traditional to ask,” Kuririn said. “No one’s actually going to say anything.”

“Yeah, we’re all too scared,” Oolong said under his breath.

Turtle sighed and very deliberately stepped on Oolong’s foot. “Quite you.”

When Bulma recited her vows she realized she’d never been more serious in her life... even if it was just putting into words what they’d proven in the last few months. She slid a plain gold band on Vegeta’s hand. “Vegeta, with this ring, I thee wed.”

Trunks handed Vegeta a ring. Vegeta took Bulma’s hand. His voice was steady and sure as he offered Bulma his vows. “Bulma, with this ring, I thee wed.”

“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Dende concluded. “Vegeta, you may kiss your bride.”

Vegeta lifted Bulma’s veil and chastely kissed her cheek.

“You can do better than that!” Roshi hooted.

“Hn.” Bulma laughed as Vegeta pulled her flush against him and kissed her deeply.

“It is my privilege to present the new couple to you: Bulma and Vegeta.”

“Trunks too!” the toddler exclaimed as he wriggled out of his grandmother’s lap and ran to his parents. He scrambled up to situate himself between his parents. Grinning broadly Trunks hugged both his parents.

The photographer quickly snapped a shot of the family.

 

 

  



End file.
